Awakenings and ReAwakenings
by purplegirl761
Summary: Ever since he first fell off the launchpad in Sellbot HQ, the VP has been a disappointment to his boss, the Chairman. But the Chairman's starting to get ideas that might put the VP's beloved Sellbots in danger. Is there anything he can do?
1. Prologue I Am a Cog

This is _it_. The final installment of the trilogy. The one that took me several months to write, and the one I'm proudest of. And...*cough*...it's not exactly from Curly's perspective.

Enjoy!

***************

Prologue

"But I haven't a brain and I haven't a heart

And my chips would feel no pain if you took me apart

And I'll never know good from bad or black from white

And I'll never know happy from sad or wrong from right"

-An old long-lost Schoolhouse Rock song called _Scooter Computer and Mr. Chips_

_Downloading...._

_Downloading...._

_Downloading..._

_Uploading...._

_Booting...._

_Boot successful! Awakening subject now!_

Not much light filtered through the heavy gray curtains over the windows, but it was enough to sting his eyes as he opened them for the first time. They were sensitive eyes, he could tell. And something might be a little wrong with them, too, given how he was currently seeing everything doubled.

He absently pawed at his face to see if he could make his eyes work right, and then stopped dead-still. Was that _his _hand? It was huge - monstrous. It looked capable of strength beyond his imagination - strength he was sure he couldn't possess.

He twitched a finger, and a finger on the giant metal hand twitched. Yes, this was his hand all right.

"Can we see our new boss yet? Is he ready? Huh? Huh? Huh?" A little hollow voice came from outside the door, curling up with excitement.

"If you keep that up, you won't see him at all!" an incredibly deep voice boomed back. "You will see him soon enough, just run along and stop pestering me!"

Clanking metal footsteps sounded down the hall, and he looked up - in wonder - at a huge robot, easily head-and-shoulders taller than him. His beady red eyes looked mean, and two antennae sprouted from his gray head. He folded his muscly-looking arms over his chest. "So, you are awake."

"Yes, sir." He spoke for the first time, surprised at how his own voice sounded. It was nearly as deep as the big robot's, and it boomed off the walls back into his own ears.

The robot crouched down to look him in the eye. "And do you know who you are?"

"I am a Cog." He lifted his chin proudly.

"And that's not all. You, my boy, are the Senior Vice President. Soon-to-be head of the Sellbots." The big robot put a hand over his. "As soon as I train you."

"That's kind of a long name," he confessed. He was sure he wouldn't be able to remember it.

"We shall call you the VP for short," the robot replied.

He - the VP - nodded happily. Much better! "Are - are you a Cog, too?" he ventured.

The robot smiled icily, sending chills down the VP's spine. "Am I a Cog? VP, I am the Chairman. I created all the first Cogs. I rebelled against my own creator, Gyro Gearloose - the one who thought I would be _good _for the people of Toontown." His lip curled. "And I created _you._"

The VP was silent for a moment. What, exactly, did one say to that? "Well, thank - thank you," he finally got out.

"For now," the Chairman said briskly, turning to a slideshow reel in the middle of the room, "this is what you need to know."

He showed the first slide. "These are Toons." He pointed to a picture of disgustingly happy creatures, dogs and cats and bunnies and other sickeningly cute critters, dressed in outfits so bright they hurt the VP's eyes from all the way across the room.

"They are our enemies. Their town is a vast market, ripe for plucking - but they won't let us market it. They won't let us do anything our way. If we try, they terminate us." He showed the second slide, a picture of a mass of gears lying on the ground.

The VP's hand flew to his mouth just as a small squeak slipped out. How awful! "Those poor Cogs," he murmured.

"Exactly." The Chairman's hand was on his shoulder, voice purring into his ear. "And what we need to do is convert their buildings into something more marketable, and if they give us any trouble, we attack. Purely in self-defense, of course."

"Of course." The VP understood. You had to do what was necessary to stay alive.

"And they are sent back to their 'Playgrounds,' the most disgusting area of all, if we win the battle. They are miserable, all the joy having been sucked out of their pathetic Toon lives."

The VP felt his eyes gleam. "Serves them right."

"Indeed." The Chairman heaved a sigh. "Unfortunately, it is only temporary. Once they heal, they become 'happy' again and set out to destroy more of us."

"So - are we losing this war?" That couldn't be true. This Chairman seemed so strong and smart and sure of himself. Surely the Toons couldn't have any advantage over the Cogs.

"Currently we are in trouble, yes." The Chairman took a seat and folded his arms over his belly. "That's where you come in."

The VP knew he was beaming. They were depending on him?

"You see, I believe the reason our Cogs are losing is partially because they are disorganized. They have no one to keep them in line, except for me, and I - " He waved a hand in the air, as if dismissing his Cogs. "- I am far too busy to deal with them. That's why they need bosses. You are the first boss I have made."

Pride welled up inside the VP. "I won't let you down, Boss," he bubbled. "I promise."

The door creaked open then, and several small blue faces poked in. "He's done!" the owner of one of the faces cried.

Instantly, at least five small Cogs with dark blue faces and spiky hair were crowded around him, their eyes wide, their mouths gaping. The VP suddenly felt huge and pudgy and awkward.

"And these," the Chairman said with a sigh, "are Cold Callers. They are the lowest of the your subjects, the Sellbots."

The VP smiled. "They're cute."

Instantly, the Chairman had his arm in an iron grip. "Cogs do not say things are _cute_, boy," he hissed.

"Sorry," he squeaked.

"Two other things you should know," the Chairman continued. "Cogs don't laugh."

"All right."

"And Cogs don't cry."

"Got it."

The Chairman strolled out of the room, and a small hand tugged on the VP's purple suit. "So, you're our new boss?" the Cold Caller asked in an awestruck voice.

Despite the Chairman's words, he couldn't help but smile. "I sure am."

The Cold Callers all sort of went "Wow...." in unison. All except one, who examined the VP with serious eyes.

"Are you going to be nice to us?" he asked quietly.

The VP felt as if the wires in his brain had crossed. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

The Cold Caller hunched up his shoulders. "'Cuz the Chairman is sometimes mean to us. I don't think he likes us very much." The look of sadness on his face hurt the VP.

"Well, I like you," he said decisively. "And I'll always be nice to you."

"VP!" a voice boomed from outside the door, and he flinched. Had the Chairman heard that?

"Time for your training to begin," he continued.

"See you around, guys," the VP told the Cold Callers, and made for the door. He was - rolling. The Chairman and the Cold Callers walked, but he rolled on treads. It was pretty cool - until he smashed into the wall. He didn't quite have the hang of controlling such a big body just yet.

"Bye, boss!" they chirped.

And that's how it all began.


	2. Chapter 1 Training

Chapter One

...You haven't got a clue

But somehow I'll make a man out of you

-"I'll Make a Man out of You" from _Mulan_

"These, my boy, are all the different types of Toons." The Chairman flicked to a slide of lots of different animals. "There are dogs, cats, rabbits, mice, ducks, and horses. There have also been the occasional bear, monkey, and pig."

The VP shuddered. No matter what kind of Toon they were, they were all much too cute and happy, their eyes shining, their heads thrown back in this horrible thing called "laughter," totally oblivious to good business sense. They bought things with jellybeans, after all. Jellybeans!

The Chairman flicked to a different slide. "This is a Toon building."

The VP winced again. The building was hideously bright shades of green, yellow, and pink, its off-center orange letters proclaiming, "Joy Buzzers to the World!"

A third slide. "And _this_," the Chairman's voice held a note of pride, "is a Cog building."

Much better. This building towered over all the others, tall and strong and proud, its dull gray chrome commanding attention, its painted-on serious eyes gazing out over Toontown like a watchful eagle. So much enthusiasm welled up inside the VP that he couldn't help but cheer and pump his fist in the air.

The Chairman threw him a look of bemusement. "As you can see, the Cog building is much more marketable to a serious audience. It is what we are all about. We simply need to convert as many buildings as we can, which will allow us to be the leading business - and make us a steady profit."

The VP nodded and leaned forward, listening intently.

"However, the Toons kept re-converting their buildings back into what they were before." The Chairman peered solemnly at him. "I'm hoping your presence will help the Sellbots become a bit more organized - which should help with their performance."

The VP nodded again, his gears shivering with excitement. He - _he _was going to be in charge of an entire group of Cogs and help his fellow Cogs be more organized, helping all of Cogkind! Cogdom? Cogness? Oh, well, there would time to learn about that later. Right now, he had training to do.

**********

The next day, the Chairman informed him of the many types of weapons Toons used. "Gags," they called them.

"There are seven kinds, from what my sources tell me," the Chairman continued. "Take notes, VP."

The VP grabbed the nearest set of paper and pen and began scribbling frantically.

"First of all, there is a gag that somehow allows them to heal themselves in battle - we believe. All we know is that after they are attacked by us and their Laff points go down, sometimes another Toon will use a certain type of gag, and their Laff points will be regained."

The VP perked up. "Can Cogs do that?"

"Currently, no."

A horrible feeling shot through him, one that made him feel like his insides were scrunching up. Jealousy, he later learned it was called. "That's not fair! Why can they do it and we can't?" His lip began to quiver.

"Cogs don't cry."

"Yes, sir." The VP got control of the quiver and turned the sadness into anger. "Go on."

"Second of all is probably the most dangerous gag of all. It brainwashes Cogs into moving closer to them and not attacking. This does, fortunately, seem to wear off after a certain amount of time or after being attacked." The Chairman shook his head in disgust. "Still, it's not good at all. It allows those infernal Toons to heal each other and sometimes even makes their gags more powerful. Of all the gags that I am trying to find a way to stop from working, this is the one I am most concerned about."

Something shivered inside the VP. A weapon that brainwashed Cogs and made them not attack? No wonder the Toons were winning the war, if they weren't playing fair!

"Third of all, there is a gag that only works with the brainwashing gag. When the Cog comes forward, he will step onto or into this gag." The Chairman gave another shake of his head, this time accompanied by a sigh. "And it's the most damaging of all."

The VP pounded his fist on the table in frustration. "What about our attacks? Don't they do anything to stop them?"

"Yes, they do," the Chairman replied coldly. "Especially the young, weak Toons, and the ones that take on more than they can handle. But, unfortunately, our attacks are nowhere near as powerful as theirs." Ignoring the VP's stricken face, he continued, "Fourth, there is another very dangerous gag - a noisy one, foghorns and elephant trunks and the like. By itself it is very weak, but it damages all the Cogs fighting. When three or more Toons use it at once, the results are usually devastating."

The VP thought of the little Cold Callers who had clustered around him yesterday. The thought of any weapons being used on them, making them blow up, made him want to crush Toons under his treads.

"Fifth is the most common gag - pastries. Cupcakes, pies, cakes, and the like. These are fairly powerful gags, but relatively easy to dodge, especially if a Toon uses too many of them. In that case, the Cog learns of their aim and patterns and can figure out where to go to avoid the hit."

Hope fluttered in the VP's chest, the way the light seeped through the curtains. He mentally shook himself. Maybe that was too Toony of a simile.

"Sixth is the second most common gag - water. All the way from small flowers that squirt tiny streams of it to clouds that rain down storms of it. This is especially dangerous because even if a Cog survives the attack, he is likely to rust later on, requiring much maintenance." The Chairman quirked an eyebrow. "_Expensive _maintenance."

"But it could never be too high a cost for one of our own to survive," the VP replied. The Cold Callers flickered through his mind again.

"Wrong."

"What?" The VP swung his face up to the Chairman.

"Sometimes, my boy, for the good of Cog Nation, sacrifices must be made." He put a hand on the VP's shoulder and squeezed it. "You'll understand when you're older."

The VP didn't even rejoice at finding out what all the Cogs were collectively called. He just wondered why the Chairman's squeeze made him want to wriggle away and clean himself off.

"Anyway, the water gags don't do as much damage as the pastry gags, but they are much harder to dodge, especially since they aren't used quite as much."

The VP listened vaguely, still haunted by the idea that maybe - maybe - if one of his little Cold Callers blew up, the Chairman would be fine with that "sacrifice."

"Last of all are gags which mysteriously fall from the sky. They are the second most powerful of all."

_That_ snapped the VP back to attention. Gags that fell from the sky?

"They are also the easiest to dodge, most of the time. Sometimes you don't even have to dodge, as the Cogs are often such smaller targets that the bigger ones will miss on their own."

The VP gave a satisfied nod. "Sounds good to me."

"But, if a Toon should hit a Cog with another gag first - especially the pastry or water gags - the Cog will become dizzy. While he's dizzy, it's harder for him to dodge the falling gags, and that's when most Toons use them."

The VP winced in sympathy.

"Do you have notes on that, VP?"

He glanced down at a barely-legible scrawl. Oops.

******

The next day, the Chairman showed him the different types of Cogs. "These," he said, flicking to one slide, "are Cashbots. They are the ones who deal with printing the Cog currency. Short Changes, Penny Pinchers, Tightwads, Bean Counters, Number Crunchers, Money Bags, Loan Sharks, and Robber Barons. Are you getting all this?"

The VP nodded and tapped out the names on the Chairman's master computer. The Chairman had discovered his scribbly notes from yesterday and yelled at him, so now all his note-taking was to be done on the computer.

"These -" next slide - "are Lawbots. Their purpose to make sure each Cog and each Toon upholds the Cog laws. If not, they will be put on trial." The Chairman sighed and mumbled something about "building the judge."

"Excuse me?" The VP looked up from the computer.

"I was talking to myself." The Chairman shook himself as if tossing off droplets of water. "Anyway, Bottom Feeders, Bloodsuckers, Double-Talkers, Ambulance Chasers, Backstabbers, Spin Doctors, Legal Eagles, and Big Wigs."

The VP tapped away furiously on the keyboard.

"These," the next slide clicked on, "are Bossbots. They are the ones who basically just are in charge. They learn from me about corporate ladders and promotions and handle that kind of thing." When the VP glanced up, it almost looked like the Chairman's face split into a wicked grin. But he blinked and it was gone. Besides, his eyes still weren't the best. The Chairman had told him the other day that they were permanently crossed.

"Flunkies, Pencil Pushers, Yesmen, Micromanagers, Downsizers, Head Hunters, Corporate Raiders, and The Big Cheeses."

"Got it."

"Now these," the Chairman said with great importance, "are your Sellbots."

The VP jumped up from the computer and scrambled over to look at the slide, knocking over several chairs in the process. The Chairman gave him a piercing glare and then rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Cold Callers." His eyebrows went up. "I believe you have already met some of them."

The VP tried not to smile. "Yes, sir." Despite the Chairman's lectures, he still considered the little blue Cogs cute.

"Levels one through five. They are weak." The Chairman glared at the picture of the Cold Caller with contempt in his eyes.

_They're only babies. _The VP felt himself sag.

"Telemarketers." The Chairman tapped a picture of a pale, skinny Cog with a brooding face. "A bit stronger. Levels two through six."

The next slide was barely flicked on when the VP felt his mouth drop open. "It's a girl!"

"Indeed it is. Name Droppers. Levels three through seven." The Chairman gave a proud nod. "These are the weakest Sellbots that can attack by group - doing damage to more than one Toon at once."

"Like they can do to us, right?"

"Exactly." Next slide. "Glad Handers. Levels four through eight. Not too strong, not too weak."

The chubby little Cog's huge, white smile made the VP grin back at the picture. "Okay. They're cool."

Both of the Chairman's eyebrows shot up, but he merely moved on to the next slide. "Mover & Shakers. Levels five through eight. Some of our best Cogs, as they almost always attack by group." The VP concentrated on the Cog's French mustache and wanted to twirl it around his finger.

Next slide. "Two-Faces. Levels six through ten." It was easy to see how they got their names. One eye, nose, and mouth on one side of their face, and one eye, nose, and mouth on the other. One face was happy, the other was angry. The VP felt his eyes widen.

The Chairman almost smiled. "You have them, too."

"I do?"

"Yes, look." The Chairman gestured to the gold-rimmed mirror on the wall. "On one side of your head, your face is happy. On the other, you're angry."

The VP studied that for several minutes, spinning his head around and around, deciding he liked the happy face better, and stopping the spinning only when he got too dizzy to do it any longer.

As he clung to the wall to make the _inside _of his head stop spinning, the Chairman pulled up another slide. "The Minglers."

"They're girls, too!"

"Yes, and undoubtedly another of our best Cogs. Levels seven through eleven. They have the most damaging attack of any Cog. A level eleven can do twenty-four points of damage to each Toon. Even the strong Toons fear them." The Chairman had a wicked gleam in his eyes, and the VP felt it reflected in his own.

"And last, but certainly not least, Mr. Hollywoods." A bigger version of a Glad Hander appeared on the screen. "Levels eight through twelve. Their attacks aren't always as damaging as a Mingler's, but they have more strength - they can withstand more hits."

As the Chairman walked out of the room to refill their glasses with oil, the VP stared at the slides of his Sellbots. It was strange - he hadn't worked with them at all yet, but he already loved them.

He didn't think he'd be sharing that thought with the Chairman, though. Somehow, he didn't think he'd appreciate it.

************

Finally, the Chairman said it was time for him to practice his battle techniques. He lugged in a yellow barrel, filled to the brim with bright Toony objects. "These are gags," he said simply.

The VP felt a shiver go down his spine. "What - what are you doing with them?"

"Testing you."

And with that, the Chairman raised a large red magnet and held it in the air. The VP felt a small pull at his chest, but otherwise nothing happened.

"Good, good." The Chairman rubbed his hands together like he was trying to keep warm, and pulled out a foghorn. He blew into it with all his might. The VP's ears stung, but nothing else.

A birthday cake was lobbied at his chest, and it all did was knock him back a few inches. A storm cloud rained down on him, but all _that _did was get the top of his head wet. Even a piano falling on him only made him dizzy for a minute.

A smile split the Chairman's face - a rare occurrence. "I believe my plan is a success," he oozed. "You are simply too tough to be hurt by gags."

The VP absolutely beamed with joy.

"Stop that right now."

The VP's grin collapsed into an uncomfortable frown.

"Much better."

*********

By the end of the month, only one test remained. His reaction to a Toon.

The Chairman set up a cardboard cutout, painted to resemble a Toon, disgusting bright colors and all. It had floppy ears like a dog, and it was holding up a cardboard-cutout pie, seemingly ready to attack.

"What would you do, boy, if this Toon came toward you with that?"

The VP didn't think twice. He rolled forward as fast as he could, barely noticing when he knocked over the Chairman's wastebasket. He rolled right over the cutout, and, with a satisfying _snap!_, it broke right in half.

But the VP didn't stop. The images of the Sellbots, and the Chairman's words about the Toon's gags - it all whirled in his brain, driving him forward in anger. He didn't stop until he reached the other side of the huge room, where his lungs (if he had them; he wasn't sure) burned and he had to stop and gasp for breath.

And fall flat on his face.

A moment later, the Chairman had yanked him back to his treads. "Interesting reaction," he said smoothly, while the VP felt his face burn with embarrassment. "Why did you run him straight down?"

"Because - because -" The VP's brain was hurting by this time with all this information. His thoughts tumbled around, and he grabbed onto something the Chairman had told him once. "Because Toons deserve to be squashed like the insects they are."

The smile that appeared on the Chairman's face was as dark and cold as an empty fireplace. "That's all I needed to know." He locked his red eyes on the VP's crossed ones. "You are ready."


	3. Chapter 2 First Days on the Job

Chapter Two

"Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

The sky above him was inky black and so shiny the VP was sure someone must have polished it. Everything else in Sellbot Headquarters - _his _headquarters - was a nice, easy-on-the-eyes gray. The pipes gleamed as he rolled by, reflecting his own awestruck face. And the ground was a wonderful, tar-free blacktop.

"Well, VP." The Chairman's voice broke into his thoughts. "Let's go greet your subordinates."

He didn't even bother to ask what subordinates were. He simply followed him into a huge room with ramps leading from one shiny platform to the next and the Sellbot insignia stamped firmly onto the floor - and hundreds upon hundreds of Cogs craning their necks for a glimpse of him. He even saw a Cold Caller standing on a Mr. Hollywood's shoulders.

The air was full of excited murmurs, until a Glad Hander suddenly hissed, "Here he comes!" and the whole room fell into respectful silence.

The VP rolled past them, taking in each and every one of them. All of them under his control. All of them dependent on him. All of them his to take care of.

They, in turn, stared at him, struck speechless. Their mouths hung nearly down to the floor, their eyes popping wide open. A Cold Caller dove behind a Telemarketer and clung to the back of his maroon suit. The Telemarketer gave him a look of disgust.

Finally, the VP came to a stop in the center of the room and beamed a smile out at the group. That seemed to change the whole atmosphere of the room. The Cogs relaxed and smiled back, looking relieved.

_They were afraid I was going to be mean, _the VP suddenly realized. He wondered why.

The Chairman cleared his throat - a noise that vibrated back from the walls and made some of the smaller Cogs cringe again. "Sellbots," he announced, "I present to you your new boss - the Senior Vice President."

The VP could feel all eyes on him, and it suddenly seemed as if someone had dropped a safe onto his shoulders. What if he couldn't do this?

But he flicked that thought away like it was an annoying Toon. If the Chairman had said he was ready, then he was ready. Something told him the Chairman was always right.

Hesitantly, he raised one arm halfway and twitched his fingers in a wave. Immediately, about fifty Cold Callers were waving their own arms wildly in the air, nearly knocking other Cogs in the shoulders.

"Hello," the VP managed to get out, his own voice vibrating over the room. "I-I'm the Senior Vice President, but you can - may call me the VP."

During the silence that followed, he saw a Mingler lean over and whisper to a Name Dropper, "Isn't he about precious?"

The VP glanced at the Chairman, who had his arms folded over his chest and was nodding his head slowly, as if all was right with the world now. He squeezed the VP's shoulder in that way that made the VP nervous for some reason.

"I'll leave you here to attend to your duties," the Chairman said, stepping over half the Cogs gathered there in one big stride. "And remember, VP -" he pierced him with his eyes - "all of Cog Nation is counting on you."

The VP saluted and straightened his big shoulders with pride. Then he looked down at the Sellbots gathered at his treads, waiting for instructions.

"Well -" he fumbled to remember what the Chairman had told him to ask them about. "How is the sales business coming?"

"Wonderfully, sir." A Mr. Hollywood regained his composure. "Our profits are through the roof."

"Defeating Toons?"

"Past our quota."

"That factory we're building?"

"Doing wonderfully. In fact," the Mr. Hollywood beamed even brighter than usual, "we were planning to test the process for the first time tonight."

"Wonderful." Something bubbled up inside the VP that made him clap his hands together. "I am very proud of you all. You are going to be splendid workers."

The Cogs exchanged pleasantly surprised looks, and he could hear the Cold Callers mumbling, "Did you hear that? The boss said he was proud of us!"

"I'm going to tell everyone I know," a Name Dropper put in.

Something in the corner caught the VP's eye just then, and he leaned over to get a good look at it. Fumbling around and managing not to fall on his face, he reached down and pulled up an old, rusty cage. "What's this?"

"Oh, that old thing." The Mingler waved her hand through the air as if shooing away a fly. "When the Chairman was helping build our headquarters, if any Toon got too close, he'd lock them up in it. He wanted the location to be a secret, you see." She nodded wisely and patted one of his treads. "You can do whatever you like with it, hon."

At that moment, a Mover & Shaker swooped down from the sky. When he landed, he didn't even bother to put his propeller back in. Instead he straightened his thin little shoulders and said in a voice as shaky as his attacks, "Boss -"

"Just 'sir' will do fine," the VP put in. All of these hard-working Cogs - what made him any better than them? Just because he was in charge didn't make him a superior life form.

"All right. Sir, the building 'Whoopee Sofa Cushions, Inc.' has fallen to the Toons again." He heaved a sigh from somewhere deep inside and dropped his gaze to his feet. "I was the only one who made it out."

The Mr. Hollywood slammed his palm onto his forehead. "Not again," he moaned. "I thought the Toons in that vicinity were supposed to be weak."

"They were stronger than expected," the Mover & Shaker informed his own toes.

"Oh, poppycock. It's sheer luck, that's what it is," the Mingler snorted.

The Name Dropper nodded, adding, "The Mingler's right. She's _always _right. You see, I know a lot of Minglers, and they're _always _right -"

"Shut up," mumbled a Two-Face.

The VP tried to snap his fingers the way the Chairman did whenever he did something wrong. He wasn't sure what he did wrong, but he wound up nearly breaking his own hand in half. Oh, well.

"Hey, now!" he said, allowing his voice to be stern for the first time with his Cogs. "There will be none of that, do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," the Two-Face replied, stiffening himself like a pole.

"That's my boy. Now, what do you say we do something about those pesky Toons?"

Hundreds of heads nodded.

"But what?" asked a Glad Hander, who was now attempting to figure out how he was going to shake the VP's enormous hand.

The VP's eyes fell on the cage at his treads. "Part of the trouble is that the shopkeepers stay right near their shops when they're taken over, right?"

More nods.

"So -" he held up the cage, feeling a gleam in his eyes just the one that always lurked in the Chairman's. "We kidnap them!"

A few cheers rang out from the Cold Callers, and the older Cogs smiled coldly and kept nodding. "Besides," the VP continued, excitement rising the more he thought about it, "I bet the Toons will pay quite handsomely to get them back, don't you think?"

More cheers and nods.

"I'll get right on it, sir," the Mr. Hollywood said, sprouting his propeller and taking to the skies.

The VP watched him until he was nothing but a speck, barely visible against the black sky. And hoped it wasn't the last time he saw him.

**************

Two hours later, the Mr. Hollywood and several other Cogs returned with a plump, struggling duck. Their hands were wrapped around her arms and legs like vices, dangling her off the ground. Her cheeks were streaked with dirt and tears, and the VP felt himself grin. Served her right for what the Toons were doing to his Cogs.

"Stop squirming," a Glad Hander snarled, squeezing his big hand even tighter around her arm. "You're making it worse."

She gave a too-big sigh and went limp in their arms. Her shoulders went up and down like she was crying. Something twinged in the VP, but he pushed it aside. Sometimes, for the good of Cog Nation, sacrifices had to be made.

"All right, Toon," he said, plucking her easily from their grip and placing her into the cage, "you're our prisoner now."

She glared at him with streaming eyes. "I have a _name_, you know. It's Nancy -"

He cut her off. "I don't care what your name is. The point is, you're a threat to my Cogs, and now you're going to stay locked up until we figure out what to do with you."

She dropped her face into her hands and whimpered. "You must be the new boss they're all so excited about." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're pure evil."

That stung the VP. Evil? Him? It was the Toons who were evil, not the Cogs. No, he decided, she was just trying to get his brain as tangled up as his eyes.

His pager went off then, and he snatched it up, nearly crushing it as he tried to find the right button to push. "VP speaking," he said what he hoped was a salesman-smooth voice.

"This is the Chairman."

He nearly dropped the phone. "Yes, sir?"

"I've heard of your plan." The VP could imagine the Chairman folding his hands over his stomach and smiling his thin smile. "I'm proud of you, VP. Very proud."

"Thank you, sir."

After he hung up, the VP felt ready to burst. But it wasn't a bad feeling. It was like there was so much of a good thing inside him, he was about to pop and share it with the world.

But he held it in. Something told him it wasn't something the Chairman would be proud of.

***********

The next day, the Mr. Hollywood informed him that he was to begin promoting the new Cogs right off the assembly line into full-fledged Sellbots. "Only you have the authority to do that," he added.

That felt good, too.

So after he signed the promotion papers and it was still an hour before it was to take place, he began drafting a speech. "Welcome new Sellbots - no, they're not Sellbots yet. Welcome new recruits - no, this isn't the army. Welcome new - Cogs! That's it!"

The VP glanced up at the duck, who was hanging in the cage, which had been placed over the launchpad in Sellbot Towers. "What do you think?"

The duck rolled her eyes. "I think they all stink."

"Well, who asked you?"

"Uhhh...you did."

The VP whipped his head around and ignored her. _Toons_.

Suddenly, the door to his office creaked open, and in came a lone Cold Caller. His little eyes were red and swollen from crying.

The VP felt himself getting ready to swipe and bite and crush - but not yet. First he had a little one to comfort.

He put a hand down, and the Cold Caller climbed on. He fit easily, with lots of room to spare. The VP deposited him onto the huge gear around his waist. "What's wrong, my Cold Caller?"

The Cold Caller smeared his arm across his face, trying to wipe away traces of tears. "I - I was going to go to a Sellbot building, but there were Toons in it!" His voice quivered. "And - and I saw them blow up a _Mr. Hollywood_!"

The VP went cold all the way down to his fingertips. "How - how could they?"

The Cold Caller choked out, "One of them sprayed him with this hose of water, right out of a fire hydrant. And another pushed a button and a piano fell on his head." His voice wound up into a distinctly un-Cog-like squeak. "And I thought - if they could d-do that to a M-Mr. Hollywood, what could th-they do to _me?_"

He grabbed two tiny fistfuls of the VP's purple suit and buried his face into the VP's stomach. There stood there like that for a long time, before the Cold Caller finally wiped his eyes and mumbled, "I'm so ashamed of myself."

"Why?" the VP demanded. If he had a heart, he was sure it was breaking.

"Cogs don't cry."

"You go ahead."

With that, the Cold Caller began to sob. When, finally, he had cried himself out, he swiped at his eyes and said in a croaky voice, "Thanks for being here, boss. You're the best."

He flew down from the VP's waist and landed on the floor, where he rolled his small shoulders back proudly. "I got me some Toons to beat," he announced, marching out of the door.

_You__'__re the best. _

For some reason, that felt better than the Chairman telling him he was proud of him.

**********

The papers were signed. His speech was ready. The duck had been threatened that she better not tell anyone the scene had just witnessed or _else_. The VP glanced down at his suit and saw that the spots from the oily tears the Cold Caller had cried into it were so small they were barely visible.

It was time for promotions.

The first group of Cogs came in, their eyes shiny, ready to be turned out into the world. The VP got that bubbly feeling again when he saw them.

"Welcome, new Cogs," he began, pronouncing each word carefully. He bent down to look a scared-looking Cold Caller in the eye. "You are hereby promoted to full-fledged Sellbots. Congratulations!"

The Cogs began to walk away, their shoulders stiff in an appropriately businesslike manner. The VP let some of the excitement out and waved them off in delight, nearly falling over backwards. "Now, go and make that sale!" he added.

As they made their way to the end of the launchpad and sprouted their propellers, the VP felt a pang. Only yesterday they had been fresh off the assembly line at the factory. Now they were heading out into the world with all its Toon-dangers.

_Take care of yourselves, my Sellbots._

Another group of Cogs trooped in, looking even more excited and nervous than the first group. He took a deep breath. Okay. He could do this. Just do the same thing he had done last time.

"Welcome, new Cogs," he said again. "You are hereby - "

The duck cut him off. Her eyes were shining, and she was waving her gloved hand frantically at the Cogs. "Hey!" she blurted out. "Did you Toons come to rescue me?"

Immediately, the newest group of Cogs winced and shook their heads, eyes filling with fear. The VP felt his brain turning into the inside of a blender. "Huh?" he burst out before he realized how very un-businesslike that sounded. "Toons?"

He scanned the little group of Cogs with his eyes. No, these weren't Toons. They were wearing suits. Toons didn't wear suits, unless they were -

"In disguise!" The VP spun his head around several times - where was his angry face, anyway? - and then flung out his hands for emphasis. The suits puffed off, and sure enough, eight Toons were standing in front of him. His mouth went dry.

_Calm down. Calm down. They__'__re just stupid Toons. Your Cogs could take them on. Even those baby Cold Callers could probably _-

He stopped in mid-thought and thrust his finger at the mass of Toons, now picking themselves from the floor and reaching into their gag bags. "Attack!"


	4. Chapter 3 Now You're On Your Own

Chapter Three

How could anyone stay starry-eyed

When it's rainin' cats and dogs outside

And the rain is saying

Now you're on your own

-"Once Upon a Time in New York City," _Oliver and Company_

He didn't really know which Cogs he sent out when and where - it all blurred together in his brain like a long nightmare. Gags were tossed, and though his Sellbots put up a valiant fight, the Toons won.

Each explosion seemed to swim before his eyes several times, his Cogs reduced to piles of gears. He'd never even gotten to know them, and already they were gone. If a Toon had hurled a gag into _his _face, it couldn't have hurt the VP more.

Then, once he simply had no more Cogs to send out, the Toons were dancing with joy, pumping their fists in the air and slapping their sides. Their eyes were sparkling, their smiles wide. The VP's heart thudded into the pit of his stomach.

"We did it!" cried a small purple dog.

"Great job!" the duck cried from the cage. He had actually forgotten she was there. "You're wearing him down!"

_Shut up! _he wanted to yell. But he couldn't. His mouth was so dry, he couldn't have made any noise if his life depended on it.

Oh, yeah. It just might.

The VP darted his eyes over to the Toons. How many were there? Eight? He couldn't tell - the eye-crossing was kicking in, and there seemed to be two or three of each of them.

Visions of their cakes with flaming sticks on them - of their clouds that rained down an ocean's worth of water - of their pianos falling with a sickening smash - raced through his mind, blocking out everything else. The VP only had one thought:

_Get out of here. Now._

He turned and made his way back up the ramp, toward the door to his office, as quickly as he could. His heart slowly began to return to a normal rhythm. Yes, that was it. He'd just shut himself in his office and not come out until the Toons left -

But, when he reached the area up by the cage, the Toons seemed to read his mind. Half of the group jumped in front of him, and the other half jumped behind.

The VP's mind raced. He thought of the Chairman. Of his training. Of the cardboard cutout of the Toon - _That's it!_

As the image of his reduced-to-rubble Cogs flashed through his mind, his fear turned to anger. How dare they? How _dare _these Toons invade his headquarters and destroy his Cogs? _They _were the evil ones, no matter what that deluded duck said.

With that rage driving him, he zoomed forward and managed to crush the dog under his treads. She let out a yelp and her friends gasped. The VP grinned and felt like he was back in control.

For all of about .2 seconds.

Because the dog didn't snap in half, she merely wriggled out from underneath him, her eyes narrowed. "That does it," said a blue cat. "Let's get him."

The Toons apparently weren't as fragile as cardboard cutouts. And he had no more Cogs.

No more fully finished Cogs, the VP realized. He still had his backup army of Skelecogs.

With that, he took a deep breath and released the first wave of them from his undercarriage. He let his breath puff out in relief as he saw the Skelecogs emerge. Three of them were Mover & Shakers, and the last one was a maximum-level Mr. Hollywood. They would take care of those Toons in a jiffy.

It had to work.

*********

But it didn't.

As the last Skelecog exploded in a flash of purple and orange smoke and the Toons began to dance, the VP felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on him. His army was destroyed, and the Toons were now eyeing _him._

"Now," the duck said with that Toon-grin on her face, "you need to attack the VP Cog directly."

_The VP Cog? _He swallowed an enormous lump rising in his throat. _But that's - me!_

As the VP stood, staring, wondering what the Toons had planned - right now they were all jumping up and sticking their noses into the bottom of the duck's cage while she yammered on about pies - Toons were so strange - he suddenly remembered something. Gags didn't hurt him.

The Chairman, he knew, would have been whacking him up the side of the head with his huge hand, demanding to know how he had forgotten something so important until this very moment. _I don't know how_, the VP mentally answered him. He certainly wasn't about to admit that his fear had squeezed it out of his mind.

But, yes, it was fine. He would simply stand here until the Toons tired of using their ineffective gags on him and left. Then he would send them a ransom note, demanding millions of dollars for the return of their shopkeeper friend. That would certainly send the Sellbots' profits through the roof.

In fact, the VP thought as he opened his undercarriage doors to provide the gears inside the air they needed to keep functioning, it was the perfect plan. Wouldn't the Chairman be -

_Fire in the hole!_

_Tweet tweet tweet tweet tweet..._

_Wow...that's an awfully big hippo riding that roller coaster..._

_I AM on a roller coaster, I think...._

_Why am I moving backwards?_

_My head!!!!! What's wrong with my head?!?!_

_Where's my face? I can't feel my face!_

_I think I'm gonna be sick...._

_No. Find the __horizon__._

_What __horizon__? _

The VP fastened watery, swimming eyes on the sky - or was it the ground? - he couldn't tell. Something ran up to him and threw pies at him - was it a Toon? He couldn't tell that, either. The floor he could see beneath the maybe-Toon seemed to be coming up to greet him, then bending away. He swallowed hard and batted aimlessly at the space in front of him.

Finally, after his head stopped feeling like it was scurrying in twenty different directions at once, he placed his arms on either side of his gear-waist and, with great effort, pushed himself back up, panting the whole time. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he never wanted it to happen again.

But it did, several more times. Each time he moved backward farther and farther and he KNEW he wasn't trying to. Something was pushing him. Maybe the Toons were pushing him. By this point, he was so disoriented he really couldn't tell.

After the third time it happened, the VP felt something strange happening inside of him. One of the gears supporting his waist snapped, and his upper body spun wildly around in circles. He felt several other, smaller gears fly off from him.

_Am I going to explode, too? _

The thought made him try to go forward, but that dizzy thing happened again. As he was being shoved backwards, he noticed one of the gears that had flown off him clonk a Toon in the noggin and knock him down on his backside. The Toon's health dropped.

The light exploded through the curtains. _My gears hurt them! _

In a fit of hope, the VP reached under his gear-waist and grabbed a fistful of tiny gears that supported it. He flung them at the purple dog, who was just getting ready to hurl a pie at his undercarriage. She was knocked backwards several inches, and he saw her health drop three points. Success!

_So I AM winning. Take that, Toons - Oh noooo..._

His head started swimming, and suddenly he could see nothing but cream pie filling. It dripped into his mouth, so disgustingly sweet and rich he spat it out immediately. He silently tried to will himself not to go backwards. It didn't work.

The duck's cage was all the way across the enormous room now, and the VP started to hurl fistfuls of gears at Toons with all his might. All the Toons in front of him hit the deck, he started to inch his way back up the ramp. He couldn't go very fast because he still felt dizzy and horrible, but it was at least a start.

But that's all it ever was - a start. Because another head-spinning and pie-throwing later, he suddenly felt a gust of air on his back, through the threads of his purple suit. And he could feel the bottom of his undercarriage sagging, dangling out over - nothing.

And then he remembered something, something that hit him harder than any pie in the face or even a piano to the head. At the very end of the room - the launchpad dangled out over a massive drop. And in a terrible instant of fear, the VP realized he was about to fall _over _the edge of it.

_No! This can't be happening!_

In that flash, the VP fixed his eyes on the cage on the other side of the room. He wanted to be back over there, but his treads simply wouldn't move fast enough to lug his huge, still-slightly-woozy body up there in time. How did Toons move so fast?

Well, sometimes they jumped -

He could feel the lightbulb on his head lighting up. He inhaled a breath so big, he could nearly see his chest poking out. And then he launched himself into the air.

The VP landed several feet away from the edge of the cliff, right next to the ramp leading up the next platform up. And, to his complete and utter surprise, a mournful song rose from the astonished-looking group behind him, picking themselves up and dusting off their colorful clothes. One of the Toons, a red bunny, lowered her head, shoulders drooping, mouth quivering, and shrunk out of sight.

He had saddened a Toon. He, the VP, had saddened his first Toon! He could feel his chest puffing out even further with pride.

He jumped again, but the instant he landed, the dizzy spell came on again, and suddenly he was being pelted with pies faster and harder than ever. They smacked against his face, oozed down his suit, stuck to his eyes -

And then suddenly there was no more ground under him. Suddenly he felt as if he'd stepped onto an elevator and it had started moving down when he hadn't expected it. The VP groped for the edge of the platform, but his fingers missed by a mile - and he realized what was happening.

He had fallen over the edge of the cliff. The Toons had won.

The VP wondered vaguely what kept causing that dizziness. Maybe he was allergic to dogs or cats or something.

And then, with panic, he realized that he was falling faster and faster. He flapped his arms frantically, but he was no bird - and he had no propeller. He wasn't going to fly.

And then everything went black.


	5. Chapter 4 Fallout

Chapter Four

"Now I know I have a heart, because it's breaking."

-The Tin Man, _The Wizard of Oz_

Voices swirled around his head, drifting in and out of his brain like wisps of fog.

"Boss! Boss, are you okay?"

"Is he - is he still alive?"

"I think so..."

"Sir, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Lot of good _that_'s going to do. His eyes are closed!"

"I'm not sure if it would even if his eyes _weren't _closed. Have you seen how crossed they are?"

"Aww, shut up, 178-54."

The VP tried to force his eyes open, but they remained stuck as if with glue. He _did _manage to open his mouth and take several ragged breaths. His head was swimming, and he had a strange feeling. By all accounts, everything on him should have been hurting like crazy, but he felt strangely numb.

"He's breathing!"

"Boss, can you open your eyes?"

He did, and saw barely made out several doubled-and-tripled images of Sellbots. The ground spun before his eyes, and he groped around for something - anything - to hang on to, finally stumbling back against the wall, which he held on to for dear life and panted.

"Boss, what happened?"

The VP ran his thick-feeling tongue over his teeth and tried to speak. His stomach was trying to leap up into his throat, but he gasped out, "Toons. They - they came in disguised as - as Cogs."

"That's not fair!" yelped a voice that the VP was sure came from a Cold Caller.

"And I tried to - to stop them," he felt his mouth going fuzzy and slack, "but they - they won." He closed his eyes against the painful memory of dozens of his Sellbots exploding in colorful showers of gears.

"They won against YOU? How?" a Glad Hander asked, toothy mouth hanging open.

"I don't - know. I kept getting - dizzy." The VP let go of the wall and sank down onto the floor, cradling his head in his hands to block out the world around him that was still spinning crazily.

"Are you hurt?" asked a Telemarketer.

"I'm sure I am," he mumbled. "But nothing really hurts yet."

The VP closed his eyes and drifted away again - for all of about two seconds. After that, a Name Dropper said in a stifled squeal, "The Chairman's coming!"

"VP!"

She wasn't kidding. The Chairman's voice boomed over Sellbot Headquarters, until the VP was sure even the Cogs in the factory could hear it. Somehow, the sound made his heart throb hard in his chest - so hard it hurt.

Matter of fact, everything on him was starting to feel as if it were being poked with hundreds of tiny needles, and that made him dizzier than ever. He tried to run his tongue over his teeth again, but stopped with his mouth hanging half-open. His insides were churning too much even for that.

"VP! Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" The Chairman's voice was tight with fury, and the VP's eyes shot up immediately to his blurred, doubled image. He'd never heard the Chairman use a voice like that before, but something told him you snapped to attention when he did.

"Hi - hi sir," he got out.

"That's 'Boss' to you," the Chairman growled. He drilled his beady red eyes into the VP. "What in the world happened here?"

"Toons," he choked.

"I've been told that much," the Chairman said through his teeth. "Why didn't you spot the impostors? Surely it's not that difficult to tell the difference between a Toon and a Cog, is it?"

Guilt welled up in the VP's aching chest. "They were wearing suits."

The Chairman's eyebrows shot up. "Ah, well, yes! That explains it all!"

A tiny bit of light filtered through the curtains. "It does?"

"Absolutely not!" The Chairman actually snorted, as if he wanted to spit on the floor. "Even if you weren't intelligent enough to detect Toons in Cog suits, surely you should have been able to defeat them."

The poked-with-needles sensation was now turning into a sharp, stabbing pain all over. The VP fumbled for the wall again. "Boss," he mumbled, "can we talk about this later?" He swallowed hard and hoped the oil he'd had for breakfast didn't make a reappearance. "I-I don't feel very well."

Another snort. "I'm not surprised." The Chairman squatted down on his ankles so that his eyes were level with the VP's. "I'm disappointed in you, VP. Very disappointed."

The VP felt as if he had been slapped. His boss, the one he had only wanted to please and make happy and help, was disappointed in him. He hadn't helped Cog Nation - he had hindered it. He wished for one of those black holes Toons carried around with them, so he could simply disappear into the floor.

"I'm sorry, sir," he mumbled from the hand he'd clapped over his mouth.

The Chairman stood back up and surveyed Sellbot Headquarters with contemptuous eyes. "I thought I had created a large, strong Cog would could stand up to Toons and help defeat them once and for all." He shook his head. "Instead, I created a big oaf with lots of strength - and without the coordination or intelligence to handle that strength."

The Chairman stomped across the floor, waving his hand as if the VP were an annoying fly he was dismissing. "Oh, well. I suppose I'll have to do better next time."

"Next time?" the VP said in a voice so soft it was more of a breath than a whisper.

He started to roll forward, but a white-hot pain stopped him. He glanced down and saw his treads limp and useless, the belt on one broken off, and the other simply smashed, hanging at an awkward angle. He put his hand back up over his mouth to stifle a scream.

"Don't worry, Boss," said a Mover & Shaker as he felt several small hands grab his large ones and begin towing him away. "We'll fix you. We'll get the Foreman right on this - and look for more survivors."

"There are none." The VP wasn't sure any of his Cogs heard that. He barely heard himself, as his eyes slammed shut and he slowly faded out.

*******

"And that should be the last of it," he heard a hollow voice saying. He opened his eyes, not quite as unfocused as they had been, and stared down at a Mr. Hollywood Skelecog.

"He's awake!" squealed a Cold Caller.

The Skelecog huffed out a breath of relief. "Thank goodness. He was out for hours."

"I was?" The VP twisted his head around to gaze up at the clock on the wall.

"You most certainly were," a Name Dropper replied. Her eyes were soft and concerned. "We were worried about you, Boss."

The VP felt a strange stinging sensation in his eyes. Maybe the Chairman was angry at him now, but his Sellbots still loved him.

"We're in the maintenance room," a Mr. Hollywood (fully completed) added. "You need quite a bit of fixing up. One of your treads needed a new belt, and the other had to be replaced completely."

The VP sagged against a conveyor belt. "But isn't that - expensive?"

"Oh, don't worry about the cost," a Mingler said, tilting up her chin. "We'll just sell twice as hard to make up for it."

The VP managed a stunned nod. "You can do it, too. You're all the hardest workers in all of Cog Nation."

All the faces around him beamed.

"We gave you a special numbing oil developed by the Spin Doctor," added the Mover & Shaker. "It gets rid of the pain for a few hours, and he mixed in a little something to help your stomach, too."

"I know." The Name Dropper bobbed her head. "I was there when he mixed it up. You see, I know the Spin Doctor. I know _all _the Spin Doctors -"

"Fine. Great. Lovely," the Mr. Hollywood said, putting a hand over her mouth. "Anyway, Boss, you should feel fine for a few hours, but the pain will probably set back in tonight. Just a warning -"

He was cut off as a Two-Face burst into the room, the VP's office phone clenched tightly in his hand. "Sir, that was the Chairman."

The VP's spine stiffened. "What did he say?"

"Sir, he says he's not going to send his highly-trained team of cleaning Skelecogs by to keep this place looking 'spiffy' anymore until you go on a winning streak." The Two-Faces's faces matched for an instant, both sad and sorry. "And he's not going to give as much money to the Sellbots, either."

The VP stared down at his treads. He didn't want his Cogs to see the shame he knew was written all over his face.

"That's pretty harsh for only one defeat," remarked the Mingler.

The Two-Face shrugged. "He's the Chairman. He can do whatever he wants."

The VP blinked against the sudden blur over his eyes. And then, to his complete and utter horror, two warm, wet trails trickled from his eyes. It was only when he smeared his hand across them and came back with a palmful of watery oil that he realized he was crying.

All of the Sellbots in the room exchanged Oh-boy-the-boss-is-losing-it-what-do-we-do-now looks. All but a familiar-looking Cold Caller, who toddled up to the VP and patted his enormous hand with his own tiny one.

"Don't feel bad, Boss," he said gently. "If this ever happens again, I know you'll win."

The VP snuffled. "Cogs don't cry."

The Cold Caller's eyes sparkled. "You go ahead."

*******

The VP wanted to go right back up to Sellbot Towers and begin promoting the rest of the new Cogs, but the Mingler had halted him in the doorway. "Hon, you're still looking a bit green around the gills," she said. "You should probably go back to your office and go to bed early."

So he went ahead and did as he said, though bad dreams about Toons with their infernal cream pies and the sudden sharp pain of the numbing oil wearing off woke him up early. When the Cold Caller had stumbled into his office with nightmares of his own, the VP didn't hesitate to deposit him on his gear-waist, and they both dozed back off like that. The Chairman came by the next morning for a routine inspection, found them that way, and hollered at them both.

And so it went for nearly a year.

Sometimes the VP actually managed to win a battle, saddening all the Toons in the area. Sometimes his Cogs saddened them before they even got him with their pies. The first time he had won, he had been so proud of himself he thought the whole Cog-world should be rejoicing, but the Chairman simply called him up to act utterly shocked at his victory and tell him to do it again.

More often that not, though, the VP lost. All his Cogs were destroyed - that was the worst part - and he was thrown off the edge of the cliff and landed hard on the ground where he waited, dizzy, sick, and hurt, for his loyal Cogs - how he loved him - to whisk him off to the Maintenance Room and fix him. They were running out of treads.

The Chairman no longer came over after his defeats. He simply called to yell at him. Eventually, he stopped even doing that.

At least, after his defeats. He called to yell at him plenty of other times.

The day the VP gave the Telemarketers a two-hour break because their throats were getting sore from all that telemarketing, the Chairman had given _him _a two-hour phone lecture on the importance of running businesses well and the evils of taking time off. The VP had fallen asleep an hour-and-a-half into it.

The day he had his Maintenance team fix a Cold Caller who had accidentally been smushed by the Stomper in the factory, the Chairman called him to yell at him for "wasting" expensive maintenance on such a "worthless" Cog. The VP desperately kept telling him to turn his voice down, secretly fearing his Cold Callers might be listening. The Chairman had ended _that _conversation by telling the VP he refused to reimburse him for the money they spent on the operation.

The VP had been up the rest of the night looking up "reimburse" in the dictionary.

And, finally, there was the day a Bean Counter dropped by with the new box of treads the Sellbots had ordered from the Cashbots.

"Why do you guys have treads lying around?" a Mr. Hollywood asked as he doled out the money he owed to the Bean Counter.

The Cashbot's eyes glowed, and he leaned in like a child with an exciting secret. "We're going to have a boss soon, too. The Chairman is building us one even as we speak." He gave a thin, trying-to-look-superior smile. "A smart, tough boss who can actually tell what Toons are and defeat them." He gave his head a toss in the VP's general direction, nearly losing his too-tiny-for-his-head hat. "Not like your loser leader."

The VP got that feeling of being slapped again. He was starting to become accustomed to it, but the pain from it never really went away.

"Why, you little pin-headed brat!" The Mr. Hollywood lunged for the Bean Counter with his hands out like claws, but the VP got a firm grip on his shoulder and pulled him backwards. In the confusion, the Bean Counter sprouted his propeller and flew away, smirking down at them from above.

The VP felt the Mr. Hollywood's shoulder tighten under his hand and squeezed it. "Let him go, my good man. He's not worth it."

"Totally!" agreed a Name Dropper. She tossed _her_ head as if she had single-handedly solved the problem.

"I'm sure he's just bluffing anyway," a Two-Face added. "He's probably just jealous that we have a boss and the Cashbots don't."

The VP believed him. For a while, anyway.

Until that one day.

When he received that fateful letter from the Chairman.


	6. Chapter 5 Rivalry

Chapter Five

I was on top of the world living high, it was right in my pocket

I was living the life, things were just the way they should be

When out of the sky like a bomb comes some little punk in a rocket

Now all of a sudden, some strange things are happening to me.

-"Strange Things," _Toy Story_

"Letter for you, sir."

The VP looked up from signing the promotional papers and nodded at the Glad Hander who had stepped into his office with an envelope in his hand. "Thank you," he said, taking it from him.

The Glad Hander nodded back and left the office. The VP glanced at the return address. It was from the Chairman.

At that, the VP dropped the professional-boss act and ripped the envelope open like a child. The letter inside twisted his brain up into a knot. It read:

_VP -_

_Your presence is required for a meeting at Cashbot Headquarters. Directions are on the other side of the paper._

_Sincerely,_

_The Chairman_

The VP blinked at it in astonishment. _Cashbot _Headquarters? Why was he the last to know about this?

He instantly snatched up his phone and (after fumbling it around in his hands, dropping it, and picking it back up) dialed the Chairman's number. It was his second phone. The first one had broken the second he had tried to dial a number. His Sellbots had said that was because it was too small.

All other thoughts scurried out of the VP's head like frightened Toons when the phone finally stopped ringing and a deep, scary voice answered. "Hello, Cog Nation. The Chairman speaking."

"Hello," the VP replied in his most professional voice. "This is the VP."

He heard the Chairman groan for some reason. Maybe he'd slammed the door on his hand or something. The VP had done that once -

"Yes, VP," the Chairman said, his voice tight. "What can I do for you?"

"Umm, I got your letter."

"Ah, yes, the letter." The VP could picture the Chairman nodding importantly. "And did you have a question about it? I mean, it was pretty straightforward and simple, but you being how you are...."

The VP didn't let him finish that sentence. It hurt too much to consider how it would end. "Do I have to come?"

"You most certainly do, VP." The Chairman's voice sounded like he was spitting out some sickly sweet pastry he'd accidentally bit into.

"But, Boss...."

"Senior Vice President of _Sales._"

The VP winced. Uh-oh. When the Chairman used his full name, that meant he was about to get in trouble. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"All right. The meeting is scheduled for seventeen-hundred hours."

The VP blinked in confusion. "But, Boss, there are only twenty-four hours in a day."

The Chairman gave another groan, this one sounding as if some Toon's gag had fallen from the sky on top of him. "Five o'clock in the afternoon. Do you understand _that_?"

"Yes, sir," the VP repeated.

There was a dull click, and then a dial tone. The VP shook his head sadly. The Chairman had hung up without even saying goodbye.

**************

The VP trundled down a brand new, no-Toons-yet street, stopping to nod politely at Bean Counters and Number Crunchers, who stared at him open-mouthed. At the end of the street, he stopped at a large, gray building whose sign announced, "Cashbot Headquarters." The VP stared at it as a long pang of jealousy shot through him.

And then he went it in, and the jealousy doubled.

The place was massive and well-looked-after, shiny-smooth trains whizzing by every few seconds. Directly on the other side of the huge room were solid gold double doors with a dollar sign engraved on them. The VP felt his mouth dropping open. He was sure Sellbot Headquarters had _never _looked this good.

As if he had heard his thoughts, the Chairman emerged from the gold doors and gave a brisk hand-wave, signaling him to come over. The VP trundled across the room, careful to look both ways before crossing the tracks. Those trains looked like they would _hurt _if they ran you over.

Once inside the doors, the VP turned and looked at the lobby. The floor was blackish marble, and it shone under several harshly-bright lights.

The Chairman took a seat at a table, folded his arms across his belly, and leaned back in his chair. The VP, eager to look as professional as the Chairman did, sank down onto his undercarriage, folded his arms across _his _belly, and leaned back.

Suddenly, he saw the table tilting dizzily away from him - and the next thing he knew, he was staring up at the shiny ceiling. He could practically _hear_ the Chairman rolling his eyes.

The VP flailed his arms wildly in the air, but that didn't do any good. Just as panic was starting to rise in his chest, the Chairman's face poked itself into his line of vision.

The VP gave a sheepish smile. "Oops."

The Chairman gave a growl that sounded as if he were about to cough and roughly yanked the VP back to his treads. "Oaf," he mumbled under his breath.

The VP pretended not to be hurt by that and, trying to look busy, began to flick imaginary dust particles off his purple suit.

Suddenly, the Chairman's sober face broke into a rare smile. "Ah, here he comes," he said. The VP's head whipped in the direction the Chairman was looking so fast his eyes blurred for a moment.

And the jealousy nearly choked him.

A Cog stood in the doorway, wearing the green dollar-sign-patterned suit of the Cashbots. He was every bit as tall as the VP, and muscly-thick to the VP's plumpness. His eyes were narrow and mean, and he had a confident smirk. He also had a cash register on his head.

The Cog glided (glode? glid? The VP didn't know _that_, either) over to them, every bit as smooth as the marble floor. He didn't trip over absolutely nothing and fall on his face or back. He didn't squeak as he rolled forward. He didn't even knock over the huge safe two inches away from his treads.

He was perfectly graceful, and the VP suddenly didn't know what to do with his arms. He folded them over his chest, and then rested them on his gear-waist and then locked them behind his head, but everything felt awkward. He licked his suddenly-dry lips.

"VP," the Chairman said in a voice that absolutely oozed pride, "this is the Chief Financial Officer. He is now the leader of the Cashbots. CFO, this is the Vice President of Sales. He is the leader of the Sellbots."

_Senior _Vice President of Sales, the VP wanted to correct him. But he could do nothing but stare in envious awe.

The CFO threw him a smirk. "Hello, there, VP," he said in a voice that sounded even deeper than the VP's own. "I've heard all about you."

The VP felt his eyes spring open wide. "You have?"

Behind him, he heard the Chairman chuckle, maybe for the first time ever. It almost seemed to the VP that he was enjoying his discomfort.

The CFO's grin widened until the VP could see all his teeth. They were big and white, and suddenly the VP wished he could close his mouth around his huge beaver-like ones. "Oh, yes," he said, wagging his head. "Every single thing about you."

Why, the VP wondered, did he suddenly feel like someone had dropped itching powder down his suit?

The Chairman rose from his seat and gave both bosses a cold smile. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted," he said. And with that, he was gone.

The VP stuck out a hand. "Hi," he said in his friendliest voice. "Do you need help getting the cash register off your head?"

"The cash register _is _my head, moron!"

The words blared out of the CFO's mouth like a Toon's foghorn, and the VP shrank back. "Sorry," he mumbled.

The CFO gave his head a Chairman-like shake. "You _are_ every bit as clueless as the Chairman says you are."

Somehow, the VP didn't think that was a compliment, and he fumbled around in his confused brain for something that could make the new leader of the Cashbots like him. "Um," he said - eloquently. "Have you thought about what you're going to do when the Toons find your Headquarters?"

The CFO's brows arched. "What makes you so certain they'll find it?"

The VP gave an awkward, bulky shrug. "Because they are rather clever. They found Sellbot Headquarters pretty fast - I mean, _fairly quickly_." He made a mental note to start using more professional-sounding words.

The CFO gave a snort. "Oh, yes, and that tells me so much."

Something prickled on the back of the VP's neck, and he resisted the urge to snarl. "Yes, but when they do come in, they may be in disguise - as Cogs."

The CFO smiled at the VP as if he were a cute little Cold Caller informing him that Toons had gags and were bad. "_I _can tell the difference between Toons and my Cogs." The smile drew tight. "Although, I've heard not all of us are so clever."

The VP's face flamed, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. The CFO gave a harsh laugh. "Ah, yes, the Chairman said he must have gotten some wires crossed building you. Now I see what he meant."

The VP's mind raced angrily. How dare this new Cog come waltzing in and make him feel like an oil puddle on the floor? How dare the Chairman tell the CFO that the VP was stupid? Did he really deserve it?

He thought back to the last time he had fallen off that cliff. It had been at the hands of exactly two Toons, one of which had had 15 "laff points," as the Toons called them. Yeah, he probably _did _deserve all this.

"Let's go to Sellbot Headquarters!" he blurted out.

The CFO gave him an are-you-serious look.

"I mean, I've seen your headquarters, now it's time for you to come see mine. Okay?"

The CFO sniffed as if this was a tremendous waste of his time, but he nodded. "All right. I suppose."

***********

The CFO's lip curled the instant he set foot - er, tread - in Sellbot HQ, and the VP was sure if he got any more embarrassed, he'd simply explode on the spot. It would almost be a relief.

_But no, _he reminded himself. _The Sellbots need a leader. They'd be lost without me. _

_That _was a scary thought, one that got the VP to inspecting his own headquarters, simply so he wouldn't have to dwell on it. There were puddles of oil all over the floor, and the pipes that had been so shiny the day he first came were rusting. The sky was dark and smoky, and the whole place looked -

"Dingy," the CFO said out loud. "What in the world happened to this place?"

The VP shifted awkwardly. "Well, the Chairman no longer sends his Skelecog staff to look after it. It's kind of, um -"

"Falling apart," the CFO scoffed. "The Cashbots will never live in such conditions."

The VP's face flamed again, and all the anger and jealousy he'd been building up since that morning burst out. "How do you know?"

The CFO stayed as calm and smug as ever. "Because _we_ shall never disappoint the Chairman the way you have. Good day, VP."

He turned and did his graceful glide-thing away.

**********

_That_ went on for a month. To make matters worse, the Chairman kept shoving into the VP's face everything the CFO did better than him - which was everything.

The CFO knew that business letters began "To All Cashbots," or "To Whom it May Concern." The VP began business letters "Dear."

The CFO never once forgot his promotion papers in his office and threw off everyone's schedule while he rifled frantically through his desk to find them. The VP had done that so many times, he'd lost count.

The CFO didn't pat his Cogs on the head and tell them what wonderful workers they were. The VP, of course, did. He couldn't understand why that was a bad thing. Weren't Cogs more likely to work well if you were nice to them?

The CFO could glide, smoothly and soundlessly, across his lobby in a matter of minutes. The VP nearly fell on his face anytime he moved too quickly, and his treads squealed like frightened mice Toons.

And, most importantly, the CFO's headquarters were never infiltrated by Toons, in disguise or otherwise. The VP continued to plummet off the launchpad's cliff approximately once a week.

_I can't take it anymore! _the VP wanted to scream about every other minute. _Something has to give!_

And it did.

When he least expected it.

*********

As he was promoting the last of the new Cogs one day (thankfully no Toons had snuck in), a Mover & Shaker Skelecog came running up to him, scrawny limbs flying in all directions. "Sir," he panted. "I just received an urgent phone call from Cashbot Headquarters."

The VP felt himself flinch. "What happened?"

"It appears some Toons in disguise snuck into the CFO's office and were fighting him much the same way they fight you."

The VP's stomach gave a sickly rumble. "Let me guess. He wants me to come over so he can gloat to me about how he could tell they were Toons and how he beat them all without batting an eye."

The Skelecog shook his head, wringing his hands together like rags. "No, sir. Not at all. Although he _did _detect they were Toons right away, it didn't do him any good. He was defeated."

The VP felt a wicked gleam come to his eyes. "Defeated? The mighty CFO, defeated?" Triumph welled up inside him and burst out in a genuine laugh. Several Sellbots turned to stare; after all, Cogs weren't supposed to laugh.

But his laughter was cut short as the Skelecog continued, "Not only defeated. He was run over by a train - fairly hard."

The VP's heart plunged to his treads, and bubbles of laughter died on his lips. Now all he felt was guilt - and fear. "But he'll be okay, right?"

He waited for a reassuring nod, but the Skelecog merely heaved a sigh - the kind of sigh that came from feeling like the weight of the entire world was on your shoulders. The VP knew. He'd been sighing like that a lot, especially lately.

"Sir, his condition is critical. The Cashbots are requesting your presence." He swallowed hard. "Just in case."


	7. Chapter 6 Crisis

Thanks to everyone who left reviews. The kind feedback means a lot to me.

*****

Chapter Six

"Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend."

-Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Cashbot Headquarters was in utter pandemonium when the VP rolled inside. Cogs and Skelecogs were scampering wildly in all directions, as if trying to run away from the reality of how badly their boss was hurt.

The VP simply stood there for a long time with his mouth hanging open. If he had been lying on his back like a turtle, frantically flailing at the air with his arms, he couldn't have felt more awkward.

A Robber Baron strode up to him then, his face pinched into worried-lines. He stuck out a hand and shook one of the VP's fingers. "Thank goodness you're here, sir," he said breathlessly. "We're unsure of what to do now."

"Yeah," a little Short Change whimpered, attaching himself to one of the VP's treads. "The CFO is s'pposed to tell us what to do, but now he's - he's the one in trouble."

The VP glanced down at him. Short Changes looked almost exactly like Cold Callers, and he felt himself soften. Maybe this was an extremely awkward situation, but at least he knew _something _he could do right.

"I know, I know," he said quietly, patting the tiny Cog on the head. "It's going to be just fine. You'll be all right."

The Short Change managed a barely-visible nod and sniffed. "Okay."

The VP snapped his head back toward the Robber Baron. "So - what's going on here, exactly?"

The Robber Baron heaved a sigh. "Things look better than they did a couple of hours ago. The good news is his body took the brunt of the damage. When he was hit by that thing, part of him basically exploded. If he had been hit in the head -" The Robber Baron tugged his gray mustache and let that sentence go unfinished.

The VP slapped a hand over his mouth as a shudder wiggled through his body. "Oh no," was all he could get out.

The Short Change let out a puppy-like whine.

The Robber Baron gave a world-weary nod. "Luckily, we found him in time. If the Skelecog team had been even a few minutes later, it might have been too late."

The VP let out a long sigh. "Well, at least there's that."

A Loan Shark stepped up beside him, shaking his head. "You know, it's the most peculiar thing. I could have sworn the team of Skelecogs said that a _Toon _led them straight toward him."

The VP's brain immediately tangled up - it always did at times like this - but he managed to think _something _coherent, and he snatched it up. "You mean - a Toon showed them he was hurt? A Toon _helped _him?"

The Loan Shark nodded. "They believe that was her intent, yes."

The Short Change's eyes grew so large the VP was sure they would pop right out of his head. "Wow. A Toon traitor."

But the Loan Shark ran his hand awkwardly up and down one scrawny arm. "No, this Toon was no traitor. She had come out of the main vault, which is where the Toons were reported to have ambushed the CFO. She was one of their team."

The VP blinked against this new wave of confusion. "But - if she was part of the team that fought him, why would she help him?"

The Loan Shark shrugged. "Why do Toons do any of the things they do?"

"I don't know," the Short Change whispered.

The Robber Baron glanced at the smaller Cog and almost smiled. "That was a rhetorical question."

The Short Change's forehead puckered. The VP, feeling embarrassed, realized he wasn't quite sure what that was either. "Is that one of those questions you're not supposed to answer?"

"Yes," said the Loan Shark.

"Was _that _a rhetorical question?" asked the Short Change.

"Was _that_?" the Robber Baron shot back.

The VP's brain wound itself into a hard knot. "What are we talking about?"

A Goon wandered by then, turned their direction, blinked its eye-light, and then continued on its way.

That was the last straw. The Short Change began to giggle in short, metallic little bursts. It was actually kind of a cute sound - not overly cute, like Toon-laughter.

"No laughing, 17-53," the Robber Baron said in a warning tone.

"Sorry." The Short Change clamped his lips together and tried so hard to look fierce that suddenly the _VP _wanted to laugh. One glance over at the yellow tape surrounding the main vault, though, and the urge to chuckle disappeared. Even from here, he could see a train parked haphazardly in front of the gold double doors.

Suddenly Cashbot Headquarters didn't seem so snazzy and fancy. It just seemed like a sad, scary, lonely place.

The VP took a deep breath and straightened his huge shoulders. He didn't know exactly what to do in a crisis like this, and he couldn't single-handedly fix it. But there were a few things he _did _know, and he went with them.

"Robber Baron," the VP said in what he hoped was a firm-but-gentle voice. "I'm presuming you're all taking time off your jobs to fix the CFO."

"It's 23-67, sir," the Robber Baron replied, back stiffening like a pole. "And yes, you presume correctly."

"And I'm also presuming none of the Short Changes have the proper training to help with this."

"Yes, sir."

"Then -" The VP took a deep breath and tried not to think about how strange it felt to be giving instructions to a Cashbot. "They don't need to see all this. I'm taking them back to Sellbot Headquarters."

The Robber Baron's eyes widened behind his black mask. "Not that I'm questioning your judgment, sir, but why?"

The VP looked down at the now-nearly-asleep Short Change still clinging to his tread. "It's for their own good. This is probably traumatizing them. I certainly wouldn't want my youngest ones witnessing this - if it had been me."

"It's been you lots of times, hasn't it?" called out a passing Money Bags. The Short Change gasped at such wickedness.

The VP tried not to let that comment sting.

"All right, then," the Robber Baron said, ignoring the Money Bags. "Anything else?"

"Do whatever you can to save him," the VP said, in about the sternest voice he'd ever used. "I don't care if it's expensive and difficult. Every one of our lives counts."

"That's not what the Chairman says," the Short Change mumbled drowsily.

The VP felt his shoulders droop. The Chairman _was _always right. But - it was possible he was wrong about this. Wasn't it?

"I'll send some of the Skelecogs on the Sellbot maintenance team over tonight to help. In the meantime, I'm sure the CFO would say, 'Keep up the good work, Cashbots.'"

The Loan Shark and the Robber Baron exchanged doubtful glances.

"Well, I'm saying it," the VP said stubbornly. "Keep up the good work, Cashbots."

With that, he scooped up the Short Change, put him on the gear around his waist, and headed for home.

********

For several weeks, the VP had his hands full, trying to take care of the Sellbots _and _the Cashbots. Sometime in the middle of all that, he somehow managed to knock the file cabinet containing their naming system over the launchpad's cliff. Only some of the files were recovered, and completely out of order, causing one brand-new Cog to be named 167-8, and the one made directly after him 9485938535-LF.

It was also good for another angry call from the Chairman, berating his clumsiness and stupidity. And why in the world were there Short Changes at Sellbot Headquarters?

"Is that a rhetorical question?" the VP had asked.

The Chairman had said several words into the phone that the VP was glad his Cold Callers weren't around to hear, and hung up.

The VP wasn't sure why. It had been an honest question.

*******

Finally, the day came when he received a letter asking him to come to Cashbot Headquarters. The CFO had - hopefully - been fixed, and they were re-awakening him.

And, to thank the VP, they wanted him to be there.

So he went. And words couldn't begin to describe what he saw.

Amid a room full of anxious silence - even the Goons seemed to be holding their breaths - the CFO's eyes fluttered open like a brand-new Cog's. They were cloudy and unfocused and almost scared, but they were open.

"You're alive!" the VP yipped.

A Penny Pincher covered his ears.

The CFO gave a deep groan and then a cough. "Yeah, I'm alive," he said, his voice sounding rusty and scrappy. "I think."

His eyes scanned the room unsteadily for a minute, then finally came back to rest on the VP - and focused. "Hey," he scraped out. "You're here."

"Why wouldn't I be?" the VP replied.

"He's been here all this time, sir," said the Penny Pincher. "He's been guiding us while you were - um, recovering."

The CFO's face went slack, and he shook his head. If the VP didn't know better, he'd have thought he looked embarrassed.

The door to the maintenance room creaked open, and a Bean Counter poked his head in. "Sir," he said quietly. "I hate to interrupt, but the Chairman's on the phone."

The CFO closed his eyes and winced.

_I feel your pain_, the VP thought. But all he said was, "I'll be back tomorrow."

Just before he left, he thought he heard the CFO said, "Thank you."

But he was sure he was wrong.

**********

He could tell they'd stepped up security since the CFO's defeat. The instant he rolled in the door, a Tightwad flung himself in his path and hollered, "Intruder! State your name, rank, and serial number."

The VP couldn't think of anything even semi-intelligent to say to that. All that came out was, "Huh?"

The Tightwad rolled his eyes. "Okay, one question at a time, genius. Name?"

That he knew. "Senior Vice President of Sales," the VP replied, proud to have remembered the whole thing.

"Rank?"

"Senior Vice President of Sales."

The Tightwad squinted at him. "Is this some kind of joke?"

The VP shrugged. "I don't know. Is it?"

"Oh, for the love of Glower Power - 111-111!" A Robber Baron strode over to them and yanked the Tightwad away by the arm. "That's the VP! Head of the Sellbots! Ring a bell?"

The Tightwad smirked. "Okay. So are we letting him in or not?"

"Of course we're letting him in." The Robber Baron gave a dramatic eye-roll.

"But I thought the Chairman said he was a loser…" the Tightwad whined.

Before that could even begin to hurt, the Robber Baron bent down and hissed into the Tightwad's face, "I know. But the Boss says he's the most loyal Cog he's ever known. Anytime you see the VP, you let him in. Understand?"

The Tightwad nodded and waddled off, looking down at the floor.

The VP watched him go, a bit of warmth starting to spread through his chest and eat up the cold. The CFO had said he was the most loyal Cog he'd ever known. That felt - good. Really good.

He entered the CFO's office to find the CFO himself staring at the security camera's monitors, eyes darting restlessly from one screen to the next.

"Hi," the VP said.

The CFO turned around and hunched up his shoulders, the way the VP had done with his own so many times. "Hey."

"The Chairman yelled at you, huh?"

"Big time." The CFO grunted. "Now I know what it's like to be you."

For once, he didn't sound like he was trying to insult him, so the VP just nodded. And then he went over and put a hand on the CFO's shoulder. "The first defeat is the hardest," he whispered. "After that, it gets a little better. But the sting never quite goes away."

The CFO batted his hand away and sighed. "Sounds like I've got a lot to look forward, too, then," he said, voice dripping sarcasm.

The VP flinched for him. He knew what it was like to be criticized for everything you said and did, and he wouldn't wish the way he had been feeling lately on anyone - even this guy, who had been the bane of his existence for the past month.

"Just wait until your first victory, though," the VP encouraged. "It's one of the best feelings in the world."

The CFO's eyes widened in awe for a moment, before he caught himself and sent them back down into slits. "You've actually _won_?"

The VP felt a pang. "Yes. The Chairman never told you that, did he?"

The CFO shook his cash-register head. "He never told me anything good about you. I think that's part of the reason why - " He stopped suddenly and looked at the ceiling as if the rest of his sentence was up there.

"Why what?" the VP prompted. Seeing that the CFO looked as awkward as he felt actually made all this a little easier.

"Why I thought I could never be defeated. I thought since I was faster and smarter and better than you, I was invincible." He shrugged those muscular shoulders, and the VP felt another ripple of envy. "Guess I was wrong."

The VP felt his eyes bulge. He'd never heard anyone say that to him before, minus his own Sellbots when they flubbed a sale.

The CFO gave another shoulder-hunch. "About the invincible part, that is." He threw the VP a quick smirk. "I _am _faster and smarter and better than you."

"No-wah!" the VP yelped before he could stop himself.

The CFO shook his head again. "You are too much fun to tease."

He seemed to realize what he'd said at the same moment the VP did, because they both arched their necks at the same time. The VP finally said, "Ouch. Fun."

"Yeah. Don't tell that Chairman I said that, okay?"

"Okay."

The CFO turned back to the screens. "I was looking over the recordings from the day I was - you know. Defeated."

The VP nodded. "And?"

"Well, see for yourself." The CFO punched a button, and grainy footage began to play. It showed the CFO wandering out the door of the vault with a triumphant expression on his face.

Then the sight of a train whizzing by and the noise of an explosion filled the entire screen, and the VP winced. "Didn't that _hurt_?"

"For a minute. Then I was unconscious, thank goodness." The CFO shook his head several times. "Now, here's the part you have to see."

Several Toons stepped onto the screen, doing a victory dance. The VP's circuits sizzled with anger. How could they be dancing with joy when his cohort lay under a train, out cold?

But not all the Toons were dancing. A monkey stood smiling in the back corner, waiting for them to stop. And a small purple dog in tie-dye clothes stood at the door to the vault, gloved hand clamped over her mouth, eyes wide and scared-looking.

A few seconds later, the Toons finished their dance and went over and talked to the monkey. And then they all threw down their mysterious black holes and disappeared. (How did they _do _that, anyway?)

All but the dog. She ran offscreen and then appeared a few minutes later on the other side of the vault door, by the train. She squatted down next to CFO's face, the only part of him except for his hands visible under the train. Her lips moved as if she were trying to talk to him. Her eyes were warm and concerned, and her mouth was soft at the corners the way the Minglers' got right before they called the VP "hon."

And then she turned and darted off again. A few minutes later, she returned, waving a Cogbuck bill over her head, running as fast as those little legs could carry her. Four Skelecogs were in hot pursuit.

The dog screeched to a halt directly in front of the train and tossed the bill into the middle of the wreckage. The Skelecogs lunged for it, running into each other in the process, and then stopped, their hands flying to their mouths as they realized what they were looking at.

A Skelecog went over and pushed the emergency intercom button, and the others simply stood there, staring solemnly down at the CFO's still figure. The dog tugged on one of their arms and said something else. He waved her off, and she threw down her hole and disappeared.

The screen dissolved into static at that point, and the VP shook himself as if waking up from a dream. "Wow," he said when he could finally speak again. "Just - wow."

"There's no way around it," the CFO added, eyes still locked on the screen. "That Toon saved me. And she did it on purpose."

"Well, that - that was nice of her," the VP said, for lack of anything to say.

"But Toons aren't nice to Cogs. And Cogs aren't nice to Toons. It's practically a law." The CFO gave a frustrated sigh. "I don't understand why she did that for me."

The VP shrugged. "And you think I do? You're smarter than me, remember?"

The CFO nodded blankly.

It was suddenly just too hard to stay there with the CFO and his questions and his own questions, so he edged toward the door. "By the way," he asked on his way out, "do you want to come over to Sellbot Headquarters sometime? I could teach you how to aim gears at Toons. It's a very effective attack."

The CFO turned from the screens and nodded again. "I'd like that."

The VP rolled out the door and threw back over his shoulder, "See you around, Register-Head."

For an instant, an actual smile flickered across the CFO's face. "Not if I see you first, Cross-Eyes."

And for a while there was no more coldness in the VP's chest.


	8. Chapter 7 Law and Disorder

Chapter Seven

What's the trouble with lawyer jokes?  
Lawyers don't think they're funny, and no one else thinks they're jokes.  
-_Reader's Digest_

_One Year Later_

All the VP could think was, _Not again. _

The note he had just received, written in the Chairman's always-proper handwriting, was beckoning him to "Lawbot Headquarters." It didn't say why, but it was exactly like the note he had received last year - the one that had asked him to come to _Cashbot _Headquarters.

The VP's brain looped into a worry-knot, and there was only one person to call when that happened. He scooped up the phone and dialed the familiar number.

"Cashbot Headquarters, Chief Financial Officer speaking," said the booming voice on the other end.

"Hi, it's the VP."

"I take it you got a letter too, huh?"

The VP nodded.

"I can't hear your head rattle through the phone, remember?"

The VP gave an embarrassed cough. "Yes. Did you know where Lawbot Headquarters is?"

"I believe it's near that place with all the snow and ice. Apparently there's one street where the Toons haven't moved in yet." The VP could picture the CFO's wicked grin. "The perfect place for a Headquarters."

"Oh, yeah." The VP leered into the phone and then, remembering the CFO couldn't seem him, stopped. Why, he wondered, did he always do such stupid things?

"I'll see you at the meeting then?" the CFO asked.

"Yes," the VP replied, proud that he had remembered not to nod.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence before the CFO finally said, "Good luck," and hung up. The VP sighed heavily and replaced the phone on its hook.

_Great. Just great,_ his brain was screaming. _I'm going to be upstaged - again!_

*******  
The sun glinted brightly off the snow, creating little rainbow-sparkles that made the VP have to squint to see. He brought his hand up to shield his eyes and wound up nearly poking his finger into one of them.

Finally, he spotted something refreshingly gray at the end of the street, a large gear over the entrance, like it was keeping watch. The CFO was just inside, waiting for him. "There you are," he said.

"Sorry I'm late," the VP apologized. "My treads got frozen halfway down the street and this Backstabber had to come and -"

The CFO put up a big hand. "I don't even want to know. Come on, you big lug."

The two had to turn sideways to fit down the narrow hall leading into the lobby. Actually, it wasn't that narrow, the CFO pointed out. They were just wide.

The VP wondered silently if that was just a nice way of saying "fat."

But the sight of the lobby drove that thought - and all others - straight out of his mind. The floors were absolutely spotless, and so shiny he could see the ceiling reflected in them. He glanced down and saw his own cross-eyed face looking back at him.

When the VP looked back up, he saw the CFO was halfway across the lobby already. He glanced back over his shoulder and hissed, "Hurry up!"

The VP realized he'd been standing there with his mouth gaping. "It's…shiny."

The CFO rolled his eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into his head. "Yes, it's shiny. Now come _on_."

He came rolling back, wrapped his fingers around the VP's wrist and yanked him across that nice floor, treads shrieking. The VP missed the days when the Sellbots could afford to oil him every day. His treads had felt so nice and smooth then -

That train of thought veered off its tracks when they arrived at a pair of huge double doors, a somber tan color, their handles shaped like those giant hammers judges used. _Gavels_, he was pretty sure they were called.

The CFO grabbed one of the gavel-handles and gave it a yank. The door opened without a sound. The VP rolled in, and he felt his eyes widening.

Everything was so reflective, so tan and serious-looking, so…official. It made him straighten his shoulders and stand a little taller. Which made him clonk his head on a low-hanging beam.

When the stars cleared, the CFO was beside him, dragging him over a table set up in the middle of the lobby. "The Chairman must still be in with the new guy," he whispered.

"It's shiny," the VP repeated.

The CFO threw him an amused glance. "You're a simple thing, aren't you?"

The VP was about to shrug, when the Chairman's huge shadow appeared.

Their boss ducked through the doorway and made his way over to them in a few short steps. Once he was next to them, he gave them a brief nod. "VP, CFO," he said. His voice was polite but cool.

The CFO's back stiffened and he met the Chairman's eyes head-on. The VP couldn't. He dropped his gaze to the floor so he wouldn't see the contempt in the Chairman's eyes.

"How do you like Lawbot Headquarters?" the Chairman asked smoothly, not paying a bit of attention to their discomfort.

The CFO almost smiled. "My cohort here has expressed approval of its shininess."

The VP gazed at him in awe. He had always admired the way the CFO could whip out a vocabulary filled with big words when the Chairman was around. He, himself, mostly just said "Huh?" a lot.

The Chairman didn't appear impressed. He just gave a snort, and mumbled something about not even dignifying that with a reply.

The VP decided now would not be the best time to say "Huh?"

"Anyway, as the performance of you two has been, shall we say, rather poor lately - especially yours, VP -"

He felt his face burn and grabbed the CFO's hand. His colleague batted him away like a bug.

"I decided that for the leader of the Lawbots, I would concentrate on making him intelligent." He gave the VP a pointed look.

The VP shrugged. That was about all he could do, aside from desperately wishing he was back home training Cold Callers how to fight Toons.

The Chairman turned toward the door and said loudly, "You may come out now."

"I've finished making your colleagues feel like dirt," the CFO muttered under his breath.

The Chairman whirled on him. "What was that?"

But the CFO never got the chance to answer. Another Cog - the same size as the CFO and the VP - rolled into the room, arms folded properly in front of his belly, looking down his long nose at the room.

Well, from a distance he appeared to be "looking." But when he got close enough for the VP to give him a full once-over, he saw that this new Cog had a long, silky piece of cloth tied over his eyes. A fluffy wig perched on his head, curling down around the sides like the ends of packing peanuts. His grayish-blue face matched the big, bulky robes he was wearing, and instead of a giant gear, he had a wooden podium around his waist.

The VP's jaw about hit the floor. The CFO, on the other hand, was far from impressed. The VP could hear him breathing like he was getting ready to charge.

"This," the Chairman said, gesturing proudly, "is the Chief Justice."

The VP's thoughts scrambled around in his brain like Toons running from a Mr. Hollywood. "Hello," he blurted out, tripping over his own tongue. "I'm the Vice Financial Justice of Sales - and this is the Senior Chief President Officer-"

"Lie down before you hurt yourself," he heard the CFO mutter.

The Chief Justice gave a very-proper sniff.

The CFO faced the Chief Justice and spat out through tightened teeth, "Forgive my colleague. He's easily excited. I'm the Chief Financial Officer, and this is the Senior Vice President of Sales. He's head of the Sellbots and I am head of the Cashbots."

He sounded like he wanted to add, "And don't you forget it." He obviously wasn't too fond of the Chief Justice yet.

"But you can call us the VP and the CFO, um, respectively," the VP managed to fumble out. "Can we call you the CJ?"

The Chief Justice opened his turned-down mouth and talked for the first time. "Absolutely not." He sniffed again. "Nicknames are ridiculous and un-businesslike."

"They're not nicknames, exactly," the VP replied. "They're abbreviations."

The CFO slapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head. In the year they'd known each other, the VP had come to learn that gesture was CFO-language for "Well, this is a disaster."

"Why are you blindfolded?" the VP continued.

The Chief Justice refolded his hands on his podium-waist. "I presume you've heard the saying 'justice is blind'."

The VP blinked at him. "No."

The Chief Justice sighed as if he'd been working in the factory for three hours. "It is a well-known saying which refers to the ideal impartiality of those who uphold the law."

The VP wasn't sure he understood any of that, but he nodded anyway.

"Therefore, to convince the general public that I am, also, impartial, my vision has been somewhat impaired as well." The Chief Justice resumed his serious scowl.

The VP blinked again. "In English, please."

"I was speaking English," the Chief Justice informed him. "And quite well, at that. You must be in need of a translation into the language of Ignorance."

"Lay off," the CFO growled under his breath. He turned to the VP. "He says he's blind because of some dumb saying."

"It's actually quite a wise saying," the Chief Justice replied calmly.

"That's enough for today, gentlemen," the Chairman finally piped up. "Back to your headquarters."

The Chief Justice sniffed a third time. "I'll be in my chambers."

As the other two trailed off, the VP heard the Chairman say, "You handled yourself very nicely, my boy."

The CFO bristled and let out a long, low growl. The VP let go of a whimper that he hoped no one heard.

******  
Several weeks later, a Two-Face was giving the VP the daily reports of the Cog-Toon war while the Sellbots had their breakfast oil. Those reports were always discouraging. But today, one piece of news made the VP downright angry.

"A Glad Hander, Level 5, perished in the Brrgh today at the hands of a Toon with 60 'laff points,'" the Two-Face read.

A Mingler shook her head. "I _told _him that neighborhood was too risky for a Level 5."

The VP shook his head, too. He had gotten used to hearing tales like this - well, as used to it as he could. But every single one of those stories still stung him.

"Curiously, there was a Spin Doctor, Level 9, in the area as well. Witnesses say he noticed the Glad Hander's trouble and flew away. A Mover & Shaker rushed to help, and did succeed in saddening the Toon; however, he was too late to save the Glad Hander." The Two-Face gave a heavy sigh and crumpled his paper in his hands.

A Cold Caller peered at the VP over his glass, an oil-mustache on his upper lip. "Why didn't the Spin Doctor stop and help, boss?"

"Yeah," agreed a Telemarketer. "We all help each other - at least, we used to."

"It must be that new boss they got, Chief What's-His-Face," mumbled a Glad Hander from the other end of the table.

The VP glanced down at him in surprise. "Why do you sat that?"

"Because," a Name Dropper butted in, "I heard from a Bean Counter, who heard from a Number Cruncher, who heard from an Ambulance Chaser -"

A unanimous groan rose from the table she was sitting at, and she glared at them. "Anyway, he said that the Chief Justice said not to go out of your way to help Sellbots. Because we're not worth it."

Hundreds of sets of shoulders slumped, and the VP put his hand up to his chest. Surprisingly, it hadn't split open.

It sure felt like it had.

*********  
The next day, the VP decided to pay a visit to the Chief Justice. Maybe, just maybe, if someone was nice to him, he would be nice back.

It was going to be hard, though. The minute the Chief Justice whipped back the curtain to his chambers and "saw" the VP, his lip curled nearly into his potato-nose. "What are _you _doing here?" he seethed.

"I'm just paying a - a social call." The VP congratulated himself on sounding so businesslike.

The Chief Justice heaved a sigh. "I have no time for 'social calls.' I am a very busy man."

The VP perked up. "Are you trialing somebody? I could help - I could bang the hammer."

The Chief Justice let his mouth hang open for a moment, then shook his wigged head. "First of all, it's called a gavel. Second of all, it's 'trying,' not 'trialing.' And finally, no, I am not trying anyone today."

The VP felt as if he were talking to the Chairman all over again. "Oh," was all he could say. "Well, what _are _you doing?"

"If you must know," the Chief Justice replied, already turning around to head back into his chambers, "I am watching a documentary on frivolous lawsuits." He actually smiled for a split second. "Wonderful things, frivolous lawsuits."

He was about to slam the door, and the VP blurted out, "Can you jump?"

The Chief Justice's face wrinkled up. "Can I _what_?"

"Jump," the VP answered. "You know, it's when you leave the ground really fast, and then you -"

The Chief Justice rubbed his temples with his fingers. "I am well aware of what it is. I am just not sure why you believe a Cog of my size could get off the ground."

"I can."

The area around the Chief Justice's blindfold twitched slightly. "Wonderful."

"No - watch me." The VP wheezed in a deep breath and sprung up into the air. On his way down, he caught a glimpse of the Chief Justice, mouth actually hanging open as if he were astonished.

After he landed - and after his body stopped wiggling from side to side in the aftershocks - he gave the Chief Justice a grin. "See?"

The Chief Justice raised an eyebrow. "Very interesting."

"I just thought you might want to know how to do that," the VP continued. "Because of the Toons. It makes them take damage - all of them. It's a very effective attack."

The Chief Justice gave one of his signature sniffs. "Thank you for the information, Vice President. I shall consider it. In the meantime, I have a trial to prepare for tomorrow."

The VP froze halfway out the door. "A trial? Of who?"

The Chief Justice barely glanced at him. "A Toon. He was caught laughing outside of the Headquarters."

The VP flinched. One of the worst crimes a Toon could commit.

************  
The next day, the Chairman called. He had somehow managed to call both the CFO and the VP and talk to them at the time. The VP wasn't exactly sure how it worked, but then, he figured, what else was new?

"I have bad news," the Chairman reported. "Toons infiltrated Lawbot Headquarters for the first time today."

The VP gasped before he could stop himself. That sure hadn't taken long.

On the other line, he could practically hear the CFO licking his chops. "So, what happened? Was the Chief Justice damaged badly?"

"On the contrary. He won."

The VP dropped his phone in shock, but he could still hear the CFO yelling, "He did _what_?"

"He won. I suppose you two aren't familiar with that concept – especially you, VP," the Chairman was saying as the VP picked the phone back up. He winced. Why couldn't he have missed that part?

"H-how did he win?" The VP had never heard the CFO's voice tremble like that, not even when he was recovering from being run down by that train.

"The Lawbots won the trial. They had more evidence than the Toons, and the remaining Toons were sentenced to sadness."

The VP felt like _he'd _been sentenced to sadness. He didn't hear the rest of the Chairman's conversation.

**********  
At their next business conference, the CFO asked the Chief Justice how he managed to win. His reply was the same as the Chairman's, but this time the VP caught something he hadn't before.

"The _remaining _Toons? Had some already gone sad?"

The Chief Justice nodded. "Yes. I learned from my colleagues' mistakes and sent out only my toughest Cogs. They managed to sadden some of the Toons, and some went sad during the actual trial, because I figured out how to jump."

The VP felt his stomach drop.

"You _figured it out_, huh?" the CFO sneered. The area around his mouth had gone bright red, and the VP tried to make himself smaller. Right now he wished he was invisible.

The Chief Justice gave a careless shrug - the first casual thing the VP had ever seen him do. "All right, so the old geezer taught me."

_The old geezer? _That hurt, really hurt.

******  
Every day, the VP kept reassuring his poor Sellbots that, of course they were "worth it," that they weren't any less valuable to Cog Nation than the Lawbots or the Cashbots - or the Bossbots, who were pretty much staying out of this.

But there was no one to reassure _him_.


	9. Chapter 8 Life Goes On

Chapter Eight

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on."  
- Robert Frost

The VP rolled cautiously into the courtyard of Lawbot Headquarters. It was impressive as ever, but knowing that it was run by someone who disliked him so much made the shine seem dimmer somehow.

But he didn't get a chance to ponder that. He was late for an important meeting - the Chairman had called him and the CFO and demanded they report to Lawbot HQ immediately.

The VP yanked open the door to the Chief Justice's lobby, nearly falling backwards down the steps. Arms flailing wildly, he righted himself and rolled into the lobby.

The CFO, the Chief Justice, and the Chairman were sitting at a table in the middle of the room. The Chief Justice, of course, had his nose poking straight up in the air, though his shoulders weren't held quite as proudly as usual. The VP wasn't sure _what _the look on the Chairman's face meant. It was almost disappointed, but not quite.

The CFO's face, though, was easy to read. It was scrunched up in confusion. The VP knew _that _face well. He saw it in every reflective surface he passed.

"You're late," the Chairman said. The politeness in his voice was strained.

The VP ducked his head sheepishly and stuffed his still-freezing hands into the pockets of his suit. "Sorry, sir," he mumbled. "You see, there was this Flunky who got lost and ended up -"

The Chairman shooed him off with his hand, and the VP took his place at the table, head down. All these years later, it still made his chest feel heavy to see that disappointment in the Chairman's eyes. All he'd ever wanted to do was help.

"I suppose you're wondering why I called you here today, gentlemen," the Chairman began. He clenched his hands together firmly and leaned forward on the table.

The VP suddenly had to urge to make sure he didn't have any stains on his suit or oil on his teeth. "Is it because we did something wrong?" he asked.

The Chairman shook his head. "For once, no, it is not."

The VP let out a breath of relief. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the CFO snarl, and he wasn't sure why. After all, the Chairman had just _said _they hadn't done anything wrong.

The Chairman drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. "Today the Chief Justice suffered his first defeat."

The VP heard someone yip and realized it was himself. "How? Why? Where? When? Who? What? Huh?"

"Switch to decaffeinated oil," the CFO muttered. "It'll do wonders for you."

The only thing the VP could think to say to that would have been another "Huh?" so he just blinked at his colleague.

"The Toons managed to tip the scales of justice in their favor," the Chief Justice said. His voice sounded as proper as the VP had ever heard it - no trace of the shame he, himself, felt after every defeat.

"They were in disguise as Cogs, though I figured out immediately that they weren't," the Chief Justice continued.

"How? You're blind," the VP blurted out.

The Chief Justice's scowly eyebrows shot up. "Contrary to popular belief, I can see somewhat through this cloth, if my head is turned at the correct angle. Additionally, when they spoke, their voices were high-pitched and made a variety of animal noises."

The VP could practically _hear _the gears in his brain grind as they snatched the words he actually understood from that explanation. "So - you're saying they sounded like Toons?"

"Basically, yes." The Chief Justice gave one of his signature sniffs. "And, by somehow they threw enough evidence into their side of the scale to - win the trial."

"But weren't your Cogs throwing evidence, too?" the CFO asked.

The Chief Justice gave a solemn nod. "For some of the battle, yes. However, for the majority of it, they kept mysteriously getting dizzy."

The VP flinched in sympathy for those poor Cogs. He certainly knew how _that _felt, and it wasn't fun.

"So -" the CFO's words were coming out in short spurts from between his teeth - "you were defeated." His eyes narrowed. "How come you're not in ten thousand pieces right now?"

The VP ran his tongue over his teeth. The CFO sure sounded like he'd have enjoyed that sight.

The Chief Justice flashed them both a victorious smile. "Because I left."

"You did WHAT?" the VP and CFO said in perfect unison.

"After I realized that the Toons had won and that any further attempts at fighting would only lead to myself being damaged, I left the courtroom and returned to my chambers." The VP somehow noticed that the Chief Justice's lip was curled even when he smiled. His brain was too fuzzy to absorb anything else - the whole thing felt like a strange dream.

"He was intelligent enough to know when to retreat and regroup," the Chairman remarked. His eyes went straight to the VP. "That is what I have been looking for all along in a boss."

The VP felt his cheeks burn. Right now, he would rather be facing an army of Toons armed with their cream pies than being looked at by the Chairman's piercing gaze. And that was saying something; the word "pie" made him feel sick now -

His musings were cut off the CFO's voice, rising dangerously out of calm-businessman territory. "About that, sir," he almost snarled. "I realized it was time to retreat, too, but just as I was retreating, _a train ran over me_!"

The Chief Justice's lip went up further. "You should be more careful around large transportation vehicles, Chief Financial Officer. Intelligent Cogs always look both crossing train tracks -"

The CFO slammed his fist on the table so hard that the VP fell on his face. "There WERE no train tracks!" he spat out, fully snarling now. "Some STUPID Toon somehow got a TRAIN in there and I DIDN'T -"

The CFO's voice broke, and the VP dug his fingers into the carpet and dragged himself under the table. Something told him he'd be staying under there for quite a while.

"That is _enough_, CFO." The Chairman's voice came back quietly, but colder than the snow outside Lawbot Headquarters. When the VP stuck his head out from under the table, he saw his colleague's shoulders slumping.

"Yes, sir," the CFO mumbled.

The VP felt a pang for him.

***********  
That night, the VP's phone rang. He snatched it up and said in his best businessman-voice, "Hello, Sellbot Headquarters, VP speaking."

"Hello," said the voice on the other end. "This is Loan Shark 17-29. You know that Flunky that ended up in Sellbot HQ this morning?"

The VP smiled in spite of himself. The poor little Cog had been wandering around in circles, staring at the Sellbots, until he had been given directions to a nice Bossbot building in the land with all the water - Bossbots often hung out there.

"Yes," he replied. "I gave him directions to Donald's Dock."

"So I heard," the Loan Shark sighed. "But somehow he heard Donald's _Dreamland _and now he's in _our _Headquarters. Can't you come give him one of your maps or something?"

The VP glanced over at the maps of the Toontown he had stacked up on his desk. He had had his strongest Cogs snatch them from Toons when they went sad and pass them out to the brand-new Cogs fresh off the assembly line. That way they would know where to go and what to do.

The VP nodded into the phone. "Yes," he said. "I'll be right there."

*******  
"So," the VP summarized, tucking the map into the Flunky's chubby hand, "walk down _this _street until you get to the land with all the pinkness. Then make a right turn and head to the land of snow and ice. Then you turn south and walk down the land with lots of water. Understand?"

The Flunky gave him a bug-eyed stare and finally nodded. The VP couldn't resist patting him on the head. "Be safe," he added.

The Flunky nodded again, turned, and toddled out of Cashbot HQ. The VP turned to the Loan Shark standing nearby. "How's the CFO doing?" he asked, concerned. The CFO had seemed awfully upset at the meeting today.

The Loan Shark suddenly looked as if it hurt to speak. "We don't know, sir. He's locked himself in the vault and said he doesn't want to see anyone."

The VP felt his heart begin to pound. "Can I go check on him?" he asked.

The Loan Shark shrugged. "If he lets you."

The two of them made their way across the train yard to the gold doors that led into the main vault. The Loan Shark banged on the door. "Sir?" he called. "You have a visitor."

The noise that drifted back to them wasn't the growl the VP had expected. In fact, if he hadn't known better, he would have thought it was a sniffle. "Go away, 17-29," came the CFO's voice, husky and hoarse-sounding. "I said I didn't want to see anyone."

The VP put his mouth right next to the door. "Not even me?"

There was a long moment of silence. "Is that the VP?" the CFO finally asked.

"Yes, sir," the Loan Shark answered.

There was a heavy sigh. "Let him in."

The VP tugged open the door and rolled into the vault. He took one look at his closest colleague and felt as if his chest had plunged into his treads.

The CFO was slumped over at his desk, signing papers with only one hand and his eyes barely open, as if they didn't interest him at all. And if paperwork didn't interest him, the VP _knew _something was wrong.

And something _was _wrong. The CFO's eyes sagged at the corners, and there were bags under his eyes that the VP knew hadn't been there a couple of months ago. He was starting to look worn-out and sad.

He was starting to look like what the VP saw in his own mirror everyday.

"Hey," he croaked out.

The CFO didn't even look up from what he was doing. "He even _loses _better than we do," was all he said.

The VP went over and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know," he said, trying to keep the whimper out of his voice. "What are we going to do?"

The CFO shook his head and continued signing papers. "I don't know."

************  
A couple of weeks later, on his way back from retrieving that poor Flunky from _Lawbot _HQ, the VP went to deliver his monthly business report to the Chairman. As the Chairman took them from him, the VP suddenly heard a scuffling noise coming from behind one of the doors nearby.

"Who's in here with you, boss?" snarled an unfamiliar voice. The VP drew back at the sound of sheer hatred in it.

"Is it a Toon?" the voice continued. "Is it? Let me at those filthy, stinking Toons! I'll rip 'em apart!"

The Chairman stomped over to the door. The VP didn't see how he could even force his feet to move in that direction. The owner of the voice sounded as if he were going crazy waiting for something to destroy.

Or maybe just going crazy.

"Easy there, boy," the Chairman murmured into the door. "It's not a Toon. It's a Cog. It's a Cog."

"Awww, no!" the voice spat out. "When do I get to fight something?"

"Soon, my boy," the Chairman muttered. "Very soon." He made his way back across the room, and his eyes fell on the VP.

The VP knew his own eyes were practically popping out of his head. "What - what do you have behind there? Is it a monster?"

The Chairman's eyebrows went up. For a brief, stunned moment, the VP thought he was going to smile.

But he didn't. "Go on home, VP," he said tensely. "I have important matters to attend to."

"Aye - like letting me go!"

It was the second unfamiliar voice in five minutes, and the VP suddenly didn't feel safe. He wanted to go home and take care of his Sellbots again and comfort _their _fears.

The Chairman yanked open the second door. Inside was a cage dangling from the ceiling. And inside that cage was a small white duck - obviously not from Toontown, because there weren't any white Toons in Toontown.

The duck had a top hat perched on his head and was banging furiously on the bars of the cage with a cane. "As I was saying, ya overgrown washing machine - you hafta let me go! What use am I to ya?"

The Chairman's lip went up at the corner, Chief Justice style. "Keep your mouth shut, prisoner."

"Answer me question, and I'll shut me mouth. What use am I to ya? Why have you kept me all this time?"

The VP knew he was staring with his mouth nearly touching his gear-waist. This duck who was one-tenth his own size didn't sound the least bit afraid of the Chairman.

The Chairman gave an icy smile, one that scared the _VP _plenty. "I am keeping you until the time is right. And once the time is right, we shall see what high price the Toons are willing to pay to get you back."

Something about that sounded familiar, and it made the VP squirm. "But, Boss, the Toons use jellybeans for a currency. I didn't think you considered those valuable -"

The Chairman turned and aimed that cold smile at the VP. "I wasn't thinking money, my dear simpleton. No, if they ever want to see Scrooge McDuck again, they will surrender complete control of their town - to the Cogs!"


	10. Chapter 9 Wrapped Up in Himself

Chapter Nine

"A person wrapped up in himself makes a pretty small package."

-Henry Emerson Fosdick

For the next twenty-three months, life fell into a pattern for the VP and his colleagues. Cogs took over Toon buildings. Toons took them back. Toons blew up Cogs; Cogs saddened Toons. The VP fell off the launchpad, the CFO got run over by the train, and the Chief Justice sniffed and wandered off to his chambers.

Somewhere deep inside him, the VP knew it couldn't go on this way forever - that it would eventually change. But the time that it had been this way was almost longer than the time it _hadn't _been this way, and he was used to it. He just couldn't picture things changing anytime soon.

That was why, when he received a letter from the Chairman, summoning him to Bossbot Headquarters, it surprised him. He had almost forgotten that the Bossbots didn't have a leader yet.

The VP glanced at the letter again. Well, apparently they had a leader _now_.

The area where Bossbot Headquarters was located was an open, green-grassed field not yet occupied by Toons. The sky seemed to stretch on forever, one endless shade of blue. The just-as-green-as-the-grass trees stood straight up, their tops pointed toward the sky as if they were proud of themselves.

All the colors were so bright and cheery - so _Toony_, the VP thought with disgust. He brought a hand up to shield his face from the sun, and his eyes landed on something. Peeking from between two trees, he caught a glimpse of something black and somber-looking.

The VP felt a smile spread across his face. There it was! And he'd found it all by himself.

He rolled forward, slamming himself in the face with several branches. And instead of having leaves like nice, _normal _trees, these had little green needly things growing on them, so the branches' slaps hurt. The VP tried ducking under the branches and rolling, but _that _nearly landed him on his face on the ground.

Once he finally got through the trees, he just stood there. And stared.

Right in front of him was a huge, black castle. Its towering tops pointed toward the sky, even prouder than the trees. Its shadow seemed to say, _You are not worthy to enter. But go ahead. I dare you._

The VP swallowed hard and accepted that dare. The inside of the castle was even gloomier than the outside. He was now in a dry, brown courtyard with only a few green patches here and there. He spotted several mysterious little tan cars with flags on the back of them sitting in front of long, dark tunnels. _Where do they go?_ he wondered.

The VP turned around slowly to take in the rest of the sights, but stopped when he felt bony fingers brush against his arm. He was sure his heart stopped beating.

_It's a ghost!_

Wrenching his arm away so fast he nearly fell over backwards, the VP whipped around to see what had tried to grab him. His breath hissed out in relief when he saw it was just a tree - or what used to be a tree.

In fact, there were lots of them, scattered aimlessly around the courtyard. They were black and shriveled, their bare, scrawny branches bending toward the ground like the heads of saddened Toons. A breeze swept the yard just then, and the branches rose up and clawed at the air - as if they were crying for help.

The VP shuddered. Suddenly he didn't want to be here anymore - at least not by himself - and he bolted toward the first door he saw, which seemed to lead into the biggest tower of all. He slammed the door behind him and let out a soft fear-whine.

"Nice welcoming place, huh?"

The VP's shoulders jerked practically above his head in surprise before he recognized the CFO's voice - and the haughty sniff that followed it. Sure enough, when he turned around, both of his colleagues were seated at a long, expensive-looking table covered by a maroon, even-more-expensive-looking tablecloth.

The VP waved. "Hi."

One side of the CFO's mouth tilted up. "Hello."

The Chief Justice nodded. "Salutations."

"Huh?" came out before the VP could help himself.

The Chief Justice sighed. Luckily, the CFO cut in before he could start talking. "It's a fancy way of saying, 'Hello.'"

"Oh." The VP took his seat at the table. "Then why didn't he just say that?"

The CFO grunted. "Because it makes him sound smart."

"I _am _smart." The Chief Justice stuck his nose into the air.

The CFO shrugged. He didn't act as angry about the Chief Justice upstaging them as he had almost two years ago, the VP had noticed. But the CFO still didn't seem to like the Lawbot boss much - and the feeling seemed mutual.

The sound of a door creaking open yanked the VP out of his thought-world and back into Bossbot Headquarters. The Chairman was entering the room, reaching the table in only two steps.

He pulled back his chair and sat down, but he didn't fold his fingers over his belly the way he normally did. His eyes were bright in a way the VP hadn't seen them in a long, long time - since about the first week of the VP's life. This must have been something big, then, to make the Chairman look like that.

"Greetings, my employees," the Chairman rumbled.

"Hello," the CFO said. The Chief Justice, of course, sniffed, and something pinged in the VP's mind. He had an idea of a way to impress the Chairman.

"Salutations!" he blurted out.

The Chairman's eyebrows went up, and the VP felt his chest get warm. It hadn't felt that way for a long, long time either.

"As you know," the Chairman went on as if nothing had happened, "when I first began building you gentlemen, I obviously concentrated too much on brawn and not enough on brain." He pointed his eyes at the VP, who blinked at him. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and he sure didn't know what it had to do with him.

His colleagues evidently did, however, because the Chief Justice sniffed again and the CFO snickered under his breath. There was never such a lonely feeling, the VP decided, as being the only one in the room who didn't understand something.

"As a result, your new colleague is a tad smaller than you three, but he is quick, clever, and ruthless." The Chairman's eyes gleamed, and the smile that spread over his face made the VP cringe. He didn't know _exactly _what "ruthless" meant, but he was pretty sure it wasn't a good thing.

The door creaked open again, and in rolled another robot on treads. The Chairman was right - he looked a couple of feet shorter than VP, the CFO, and the Chief Justice. But fear shuddered up the VP's spine at the sight of him.

The robot's head was shaped like a bag of golf clubs, with several greenish crystals around his mouth. A strange-looking hat lay sideways on his head. He wore a dark green vest over a not-quite-white shirt, and he clutched a golf club tightly in one hand.

But none of that was what scared the VP. No, it was his eyes, harder than rocks, with an evil gleam in them. And the toothy sneer he was currently flashing around the room. He looked like he could bash all three of their heads in with that golf club - and enjoy every minute of it.

When the VP glanced at his colleagues, he saw it wasn't just him thinking that. The CFO's eyes were narrowed into studying-slits, and even the Chief Justice looked wary.

The Chairman, on the other hand, looked completely unconcerned. "Boys, this is the Chief Executive Officer. The CEO."

The VP whipped his head from the CFO to the CEO and back again. He felt his eyes cross even more than usual.

The CFO waved what looked like a couple dozen hands in front of his face, and then said, "Oh, great. I think you broke something up there, Boss."

The Chairman gave an out-and-out snort. "It's been broken for far longer than you've even been around, CFO."

This new Cog - the CEO - made a harsh little noise at that comment. It took the VP a minute to realize it was laughter. Then he turned to the Chief Justice, stuck out his hand, and said, "So you're Lady Justice, huh?"

The VP nearly choked, and he could see the CFO's eyes bulging practically out of his head. The Chief Justice coughed several times, set his jaw, and said, "Actually, I am the _Chief _Justice, and I am considered masculine, though robots technically have no genders."

It was enough to make the VP's head hurt, but the CEO didn't seem a bit fazed. He reached out a big metal hand and tugged on the Chief Justice's grayish-blue robes. "Well, Masculine Justice, how do you explain the dress?"

It was then that the VP recognized the CEO's voice. It was the voice that had been hollering for a fight - behind the Chairman's door - nearly two years ago. Had the Chairman been training him all this time?

_Wow,_ the VP thought. _No wonder he's so mean._

The Chief Justice batted the CEO's hand away. "It is not a dress, ignorant one. It is a robe."

The CEO's mouth came open like an ugly hole. "Did you just call me ignorant?"

"It just means you don't know any better -" the CFO began. There was a quiver in his voice, and that wasn't something you heard often.

But the CEO cut him off. "No one insults me," he snarled up into the Chief Justice's face. "Remember that, Potato Nose."

The Chief Justice looked as if he'd rather have the CEO locked up in jail without a key in sight, but he tucked his lips in and nodded. The CEO sneered. "Good," he said.

And then he turned to the CFO. "You know, for our names being so much alike, you don't look nearly as good as I do. Matter of fact, you need some exercise. I recommend golfing."

The VP shifted sideways, trying to hide his own bulging belly.

The CFO's eyes narrowed. "And I recommend throwing yourself in front of a train at my headquarters."

The VP blinked. That was saying something. The CFO was always saying how being run over by a train was a fate he wouldn't wish on the Chief Justice himself.

The CEO wiggled his eyebrows. "A threat? How…cute." He turned to face the VP head-on, and the VP heard himself yip softly. "So, VP. What does that stand for? Very Pathetic?"

The VP let out a breath of relief at just being asked a question. He'd expected an insult. "No," he said, shaking his head. "It stands for Vice President."

The CEO gave another hard laugh that didn't sound like anything was actually funny. "Loser," he muttered under his breath.

The VP's face burned as if he'd been slapped.

Behind them, the Chairman coughed. "All right, I believe that's enough for one day. You are free to go back to your Headquarters if you want."

The CFO and the Chief Justice left then as if something were chasing them. Even the Chairman wandered into an elevator and disappeared.

But the VP hung back. Maybe - maybe all the CEO needed was someone to be nice to him.

"You know, you're going to be in charge of eight kinds of Cogs now," he managed to get out. "There are the Flunkies. They're kind of weak, but they're cute and they're _so _loyal. They're really going to look up to you. And then there are Pencil Pushers. You need paperwork signed, they're your guys. And the -"

The CEO cut him off. "Shut up."

The VP didn't. "You don't want to hear about all the wonderful things you can do for your Bossbots?"

The CEO chuckled out another one on his ugly laughs. "No! I want to hear about all the wonderful things _they _can do for _me_!"

The VP grabbed his newest colleague's hands. "But that - that's -"

"Mean?" the CEO supplied.

He nodded.

"Well, news flash, Cross-Eyes. I'm not a nice guy." With that, the CEO brought his golf club down - hard - on the VP's right hand.

The VP let out a cry - okay, an out-and-out yelp - jerked his right hand back, and cradled it in his left. He could feel his heart pounding all the way up his throat, and tears were stinging at the back of his eyes from the sheer pain. His hand felt as if it had been crushed to pieces.

"Now get out," he heard the CEO bark.

The VP did. He didn't stop rolling as fast as he could until he was safely back in his office.

**********  
Several weeks later, while the VP was recovering from falling off the cliff, a Robber Baron, a Big Wig, and a Big Cheese stopped by to inform him of an important meeting at the Chairman's hideout.

He couldn't come. It had been one of those battles where, no matter what he did, he kept going into a new dizzy spell almost before he could get out of the old one. Trying to move forward or jump was out of the question during those fights. All he could do was stand there and try to keep his oil-breakfast down.

"He can't come," a Mr. Hollywood informed them. "He just fell off the launchpad a few hours ago, so he doesn't feel real great."

The Robber Baron rolled his eyes. The Big Wig sniffed and said, "Sellbots." The Big Cheese went ahead and spat on the floor.

It might as well have been in the VP's face.

*******  
The meeting was postponed until the next day. When the VP got there, the Chairman informed them that Bossbot Headquarters had been infiltrated by Toons - disguised as Cogs, of course. And the CEO had beaten them.

"They didn't even need to fight me head-on," he bragged. "They all went sad fighting my Bossbots."

The VP's curiosity was piqued. "How?"

"Oh, the usual way," the CFO piped up. "The Cogs took all their Laff points, and then all their gags -"

The CEO glared at him. "Well, the Chairman and I have been working on a little project we call 'Version 2.0 Cogs.' Basically, once the Cog has been defeated, a perfectly healthy Skelecog emerges."

The VP's mouth hung open. "Wow."

"Where _is _the Chairman, anyway?" the CFO asked.

The Chief Justice sniffed from his seat. "He said now that there are four of us, it is highly probable that we can discuss matters amongst ourselves. He shall, of course, be checking up on us periodically."

The other three nodded, even the VP, though he wasn't entirely sure what "periodically" meant. "Probable" he understood. It was used in sentences like, "It is highly probable that Toon will buy from us."

"So - how did your Cogs do in the fight?" he asked the CEO now. "Did any of them - you know - perish?"

The CEO's lip curled. "Yes, a couple blew up. But that's a small price to pay for my own safety, isn't it?"

The Chief Justice nodded. The CFO shrugged. And the VP yelled, "NO!" in about the loudest voice he'd ever used.

That was good for the CEO giving him a wow-you're-even-stupider-than-I-thought look. But it sure beat a whack from a golf club.

********  
He was signing papers a couple of days later when there was a noise outside his door. Before the VP could even get up to see what all the commotion was about, the door burst open and in came a Head Hunter. His entire too-small-for-his-body head was bright red, and in each hand he was holding a wiggling little Cold Caller by the back of their maroon suits.

Red-hot anger sizzled up the back of the VP's neck, and he rolled over to the Head Hunter. "What are you _doing_?" he burst out. He had never heard himself sound so angry. "Put them down immediately!"

The Head Hunter dropped each Cold Caller with a sickly thud. They scrambled over to the VP and hid behind him. The Head Hunter scowled up at him. "These noobs showed up at a Bossbot building in Donald's Dock asking for directions to Daisy Gardens! Building regulations clearly state that no Cog shall enter a building that does not belong to his type except during an invasion - and this was certainly no invasion."

"They were lost! That's not their fault!" the VP yelled.

"Then they should have asked for directions in a Sellbot building," the Head Hunter replied smoothly.

"There are hardly _any _Sellbot buildings in Donald's Dock!" the VP shot back. He knew he was shrieking by that point, but he didn't care.

The Head Hunter shrugged. "Like I care. Regulations state -"

"I don't care about regulations!" the VP burst out.

The room became deathly quiet as the VP realized what he had just said. No Cog could possibly _not _care about regulations. Regulations and rules and paperwork and business were what they _lived _for.

_I'm a disgrace to all of Cog Nation,_ the VP thought sadly.

But he slanted his eyes down at the Head Hunter and said in the calmest, most CFO-like voice he could manage, "Don't you ever - _ever _lay a hand on any of my Sellbots _again_. Do you hear me?"

The Head Hunter's little eyes suddenly grew almost as huge and frightened as a Flunky's. "Y-yes, s-sir," he stuttered. "A-anything you say, sir."

And he ran out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Boss." He felt a little hand tugging on his suit, and looked down at the Cold Callers. "The Bossbots didn't use to be mean to us. What's wrong?"

The VP let out a long sigh. "Their new boss. That's what's wrong."

And, the VP realized, that must have been why that Head Hunter had gotten so scared. He must have thought all the Cog Bosses were the same. But what would make a Cog so frightened afraid of his own boss?

He would find out soon enough.


	11. Chapter 10 Secrets Revealed

Chapter Ten

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day, saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"

-Mary Anne Radmacher

In the middle of December, the VP and his colleagues each had to meet with the Chairman for their yearly report.

The Toons had all started acting even stranger than usual; they were singing songs about jingling bells and roasting chestnuts, and talking about someone named "Santa Claus," who delivered presents to anyone who was good. The VP wondered what made them think they were getting anything - they certainly weren't "good."

The weather had turned cold and strange white flakes were falling from the sky regularly. Apparently, it was the same substance that was all over the ground in the neighborhood that led to Lawbot Headquarters. "Snow" the Toons called it. The VP just knew it was cold on his treads.

Somewhere in the middle of all the happenings, the VP had turned five years old. His Sellbots, naturally, had thrown him a party - a small one - the Chairman didn't approve of parties, and the VP didn't want them to get in trouble, and the CFO had gotten him a book entitled, "How to Sell Anything," written by someone named Fuller Brushbill.

The CEO continued his winning streak; no Toons had beaten him yet. He, of course, was looking forward to the Chairman's feedback on his performance.

The VP was _not_. He already knew what the reports would say, because he knew the way things worked. The CFO was strong, the Chief Justice was smart, the CEO was quick and clever and tough. And he - he was old and stupid and weak and worthless.

And it hurt.

********  
"Why does it constantly surprise you?" the Chairman boomed. "How many times have you lost to the Toons?"

The VP swallowed hard and glanced down at the Chairman's spotless floor. "I - I've lost count, Boss."

"Exactly. And yet you still cannot tell the difference between a Cog and a Toon." The Chairman gave a disgusted snort.

"Yes, I can," the VP protested. "It's just that the Toons - they're - they're wearing suits, and that - that's not right. It - it confuses me."

The Chairman twitched an eyebrow. "It appears to me that _everything _confuses you, VP."

The VP couldn't think of anything to say to that, because he knew the Chairman was right. And he hated it that whenever anything tangled his brain up, it tied his tongue into knots, too, so that it wouldn't let the right words out.

"What I don't understand, as I've said, is why the fact that they are Toons always comes as a surprise to you," the Chairman continued. "Surely you've noticed that Toons invade your promotional session quite often."

The VP could only blink. He _had _noticed that, but he loved promoting his Sellbots so much - he got swept up in it. So swept up that he forgot that those meddling Toons even _existed_, much less infiltrated Sellbot Headquarters.

"And," the Chairman rifled through some papers on his desk, "my records here indicate that you recently suffered defeat at the hands of _one _Toon. Care to explain?"

The VP swallowed again, thoughts spinning. "He had very powerful gags, Boss."

"All right, that explains how he defeated your subordinates, but what about _you_? His powerful gags had nothing to do with pushing you off that cliff!" The Chairman's voice had shifted out of its cold firmness and into yell-level, and that always made the VP wilt.

"I don't know, Boss. I - I - whenever a Toon tries to throw me off the edge of the launchpad, I always wind up getting very dizzy." The VP flung his hands in the air in frustrated confusion. "And it just keeps happening, and I don't know why!"

The Chairman stared at him for a long moment, disbelief smeared across his face. Then he set his jaw and said in the hardest, coldest voice the VP had ever heard, "Did it ever occur to you that the Toons might be doing something to _make _you dizzy?"

The VP could practically feel the lightbulbs on his head lighting up. "You think that's it?"

The Chairman gave a low moan. "VP, everyone has known that for a long time now - except, apparently, for you."

The VP felt a pang in his chest. "Then why didn't someone tell me?"

"We all assumed you already knew." The Chairman's voice was quiet now, which scared the VP more than the yelling. "We overestimated your intelligence."

The pang turned into a stab.

At that moment, a voice from beyond of the Chairman's doors hollered, "Ach! Would you leave the lad alone, already?"

The Chairman flung open the door and snarled at that same white duck in the cage. "Keep out of this. I know how to handle this. I'm a businessman."

The duck met the Chairman's gaze with blazing, unafraid eyes. "Aye, as am I. And I know a business gets nowhere fast when you treat your workers like _that_."

The Chairman slammed the door with a resounding thud, and the VP couldn't hold back the questions in his head any longer. "Boss? Who is that Toon? And why do you have him in a cage?"

The Chairman stopped with his pen hovering above a piece of paperwork. He sighed and turned around in his chair to meet the VP's eyes. "I suppose it's time you knew."

The VP sat down on his undercarriage and waited as the Chairman shifted in his chair and coughed almost awkwardly.

"You see," he finally began, "that is Scrooge McDuck. The richest duck in the world. He originally comes from Duckburg, a city near Toontown.

"One of Scrooge's employers was a chicken named Gyro Gearloose. He was an inventor, and one day, he made a robot. 'Armstrong,' he called it. It was a brilliant robot - too brilliant for Gyro."

Chills ran down the VP's spine. "What happened?"

The Chairman pulled himself up tall in his chair. "It rebelled against Gyro, and locked both him and Scrooge up while it attempted to take over the world." He slanted a smirk down at the VP. "My kind of fellow."

The VP started to feel uneasy, but he nodded.

"However, some rogue pilot who could barely land a plane and Scrooge's grandnephews poured water on Armstrong and - he malfunctioned. But several citizens of Duckburg had been charmed by the robot before it rebelled, and they wanted 'Armstrongs' of their own to act as butlers for them." The Chairman snarled again. "Lazy Toons, expecting us robots to do all their work for them.

"So Gyro got to work building a new type of robot butlers as a replacement for Armstrong. He built a prototype and then wandered off to do something. Scrooge came in at that moment, and realized a robot like this could be used for the 'benefit of all the people of Toontown.'" The Chairman gave his head a shake. "Absolutely disgusting."

But the VP's brain was tangling. The benefit of the people of Toontown? Robots could be used to _help _Toons? How could this be?

"And, of course, it could make him a ton of money. That's the one area where I share a similarity to Scrooge. We both consider money one of the most important things in the world - _the _most important, to me."

_More important than us?_ the VP wanted to ask. But he was afraid of the answer he might get.

"So he decided that the 'Do Not Touch' sign Gyro had put on the robot didn't apply to him, since he had paid for the robot's construction." The Chairman gave another hard snort. "Typical idiotic Toon. Anyway, he reached inside the robot's foot and touched a couple of wires together - the _wrong _wires. And that robot was programmed wrong, so that he took Scrooge hostage.

"And now Scrooge is the prisoner of the Cogs. When the time is right, we shall demand control of Toontown as his ransom!" The Chairman ended his speech by slamming his hand down - hard - on the table.

The VP stood there, trying to absorb all that information. "How do you know so much about this, Boss?"

The Chairman locked eyes with the VP. "Because that robot who was programmed wrong - was me."

The VP's entire world collapsed around him.

The Chairman didn't seem to notice, though. He picked up the VP's performance paperwork and scribbled on it, muttering under his breath, "Overall, I would rate your performance this year as - poor. Worse than poor." He shoved the paper back at the VP and added, "Go send in the next boss."

The VP shoved the paper into his pockets. For once he didn't care if he wrinkled it.

Out in the waiting room, the VP spotted a Flunky sitting primly in one of the Chairman's expensive, stiff chairs. His normally-huge eyes were swollen into reddened slits, as if he'd been crying.

The VP felt a pang for him. "Hi, there," he said, reaching down to pat the top of the Flunky's bald head. Flunkies weren't Cold Callers, but they were still pretty cute -

At least, until this particular one yanked himself away from the VP and barked, "Keep your grimy fingers off me, Sellbot!"

The VP recoiled as if he had tried to bite him. The Bossbots _had _been meaner lately, but he'd rarely heard that kind of talk from anything below a Downsizer - and _never _from a Flunky.

"What's the matter? Don't you recognize my voice?" the Flunky continued, eyes narrowing even further.

The VP paused to consider that. It _was _awfully deep for a Flunky's voice, and the anger in it sounded a lot like the Chairman's. "CEO?" he guessed.

"Well, aren't you the smart one?" the Flunky snorted.

The VP shook his head. "No. I'm not. But -" he tilted his head - "why are you a Flunky?"

"I got defeated, okay!" the Flunky-who-was-really-the-CEO snapped. "The Toons beat me, and I got demoted all the way down to a Flunky."

The VP felt his mouth twitch.

"Laugh at me, and so help me I'll -"

"CEO." The Chairman's voice boomed through the wall. "I'll see you now."

The Flunky-who-was-really-the-CEO's shoulders slumped, and he toddled slowly through the huge doors. For the first time ever, the VP felt sorry for him.

But not sorry enough to keep him from calling up the CFO later and telling him that the Chairman's pet had finally - finally - suffered his first defeat.

*********  
_Not again. This can't be happening _again.

But, sure enough, the colorful creatures peeling themselves from the floor, dusting themselves off, and reaching for the gag bags were Toons. The VP groaned. He really, really didn't want to take a dive off the launchpad today.

The first Cog to come crawling out from his undercarriage was a Mr. Hollywood - one of his best workers. The VP felt a little better. At least most of these Toons were young and weak - some didn't even have thirty Laff points yet.

"Don't worry, guys," said a blue horse. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a big red button on a platform. "I've been saving this for a special occasion."

As the VP watched in horror, the horse pressed the button and a huge cannon appeared under the Mr. Hollywood. It shot him into the air, so high that even when the VP craned his neck, he couldn't see where he went. But he clearly heard the explosion sound that followed.

He was gone.

Suddenly, it felt as if something heavy were pressing against the VP, and that made it hard for him to breathe. One of his Sellbots - his loyal, wonderful, hardworking, understanding -

It hurt too much to keep thinking about it, so his hands took over. Before the VP even realized what he was doing, he had grabbed the horse by his too-bright collar and was yelling into his face, "What _was _that? What did you just _do_?"

One of the little Toons screamed, and a couple of black cats clung to each other, wide-eyed. The horse swallowed hard.

The VP wasn't used to being on this end of fear, and it didn't feel as good as he'd always imagined it would. But at this point, that didn't matter.

"It was a pink slip," the horse spat out. "It destroys any Cog in one blow."

"Where did you get it?" the VP shot back. His teeth were gritted together so hard that they hurt.

"It was our reward for defeating the CEO," the horse replied. "We - we took them from him."

A pain like nothing else he had ever felt grabbed the VP by the chest and shook him. "They - they were his?"

The horse nodded. His pale-blue face had gone ghost-white.

A wave of anger, pain, fear - every bad feeling in the world mixed together - rolled over the VP, and he closed his eyes. His insides felt hollow.

Straightening his shoulders, he lowered his hand to the floor and let the horse hop off. Then he went over to the cage dangling from the ceiling, grabbed its chain, and pulled it down to the ground.

As the other Toons stared at him, the VP yanked open the door and watched the Toon in the cage walk out. "Here," he said in a voice that sounded dead, even to his own ears. "Take your shopkeeper friend. Just get out. Just go away."

"Are you _serious_?" a mouse squealed.

A dog jabbed her in the ribs. "Hey," he said, "don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

The horse blinked. "Say what?"

All eight - nine, counting the shopkeeper - Toons threw down their black holes and disappeared, talking and giggling.

The VP had never felt less like giggling in his life. He took off for Bossbot Headquarters as fast as his treads could carry him.

"Where's the CEO?" the VP demanded of the first Bossbot he saw.

The bored-looking Micromanager stabbed a finger toward a door. "He's in the Banquet Hall."

"Thanks," the VP panted. Right before he burst in the doors, he saw a surprised smile spread across the Micromanager's tiny face.

And then he stopped dead still. "Whoa."

The Banquet Hall was probably a mile long, with portraits of Cogs hanging on the rich red walls. The VP's eye caught on one particularly dusty-looking frame. Curiosity got on the better of him, and he rolled over to look at it.

Crossed eyes stared back at him.

"Hey!" the VP burst out happily. "That's me!"

A fire blazed in the fireplace at the end of the room, and the VP stepped over to it. It felt nice and warm after the stark cold of the rest of the Headquarters.

_I guess the CEO only warms the rooms he's going to be in,_ the VP realized. That thought took away the room's warmth.

"I understand you wanted to see me, Eggplant Suit."

_That's a new one._

The VP whipped around and stared into the CEO's rock-hard eyes. He was back to his normal, golf-club-headed self, and the VP felt anger surge through him again.

"What are those pink slips for?" the VP barked.

The CEO looked startled for a second. "Word got out about them already?"

"A Toon used them on one of my Sellbots this morning," the VP hissed.

The CEO smirked. "Oh, well. Them's the breaks."

The VP tried as hard as he could to ignore that. "What. Are. They. For?" Each word dropped like a whole sentence in and of itself.

The CEO adjusted his silly little golf hat. "They're for getting rid of the employees that are not contributing adequately to my company."

For once, the VP understood perfectly. And for once, he wished he didn't.

_The Cogs that aren't - good enough for him - he destroys them!_ his brain screamed at him.

"I'm going to tell the Chairman about this," the VP said with a snarl of his own. There! That should teach him.

To his surprise, the CEO burst out laughing. "I doubt the Chairman would care," he said in between hard chuckles, "considering he was the one who gave them to me in the first place."

The VP froze. "He what?"

"He gave them to me to use on the Cogs who were putting the rest of the company at financial risk." The CEO wagged his head. "You know what he says: Sometimes, for the good of Cog Nation, sacrifices must be made."

"But those Cogs you destroy are _part _of Cog Nation!" the VP burst out. "It's not for the good of Cog Nation - it's for the good of _him_! And _you_!"

The CEO seemed completely unmoved. "Actually, the Chairman gave myself, Lady Justice, and the Chief Fat Officer the option of using pink slips if we chose to. Both of them refused, though. The Chief Justice said they weren't necessary - that the Toons would naturally 'weed out' the incompetent Cogs on their own."

The VP felt sick. Sicker than he'd ever felt, even after those battles that were more half-hour-long dizzy spells than fights.

"And the CFO said it wasn't his place to decide whether or not a Cog deserved to be destroyed." One side of the CEO's mouth went up into something too cruel to be called a smile. "The Chairman didn't even bother offering them to you. He knew you were too much of a softie."

Right now, a softie didn't seem like such a bad thing to be. "The CFO's not fat," was all the VP could get out.

The CEO gave an empty laugh. "Get out."

The VP was more than happy to. But he only made it as far as the shriveled-up courtyard before all the anger and fear and hurt he'd been storing up for the past five years came spilling out.

He sank down with his back against a wall, buried his face in his hands, and cried.

**********  
He didn't know how long he had been like that when the little voice at his elbow brought him back to reality. "Hi," it said. "Are you okay?"

The VP looked down to see a bug-eyed Flunky staring up at him. "Yes," he lied, wiping his eyes.

The Flunky wiggled in close to him and put a chubby hand on one of his treads. "Did the CEO yell at you?"

The VP nodded.

The Flunky's eyes drooped behind his glasses. "I know how that feels. He yells at me all the time, too."

The VP raised his head and smiled in spite of himself.

The Flunky gasped. "Hey! You're the Sellbot Boss!"

The VP felt his smile grow. "Yes, I'm the VP."

The Flunky's eyes grew even bigger. "Wow. I never thought I'd actually see you in person. All the Cold Callers I've met say you're terrific."

Something warm grew in the VP's chest. "They do?"

The Flunky bobbed his head. "Yup. They say you never yell, and you never dock their pay no matter what kind of mistakes they make, and you never hit them with your golf clubs."

"I don't even have golf clubs -" the VP started to say.

But he was cut off by the CEO's voice booming from inside, "11489-7B! Get in here!"

The Flunky hunched up his shoulders. "I gotta go," he whispered.

And he turned and walked away. But not without hissing over his shoulder, "I wish you were my boss."

That made everything hurt a little less.

*********  
A few days later was what the Toons referred to as "Christmas Eve." The VP had looked up Christmas on the Internet, and it sounded wonderful.

It sounded like just the kind of thing he needed right now. And that gave him an idea.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Bossbot Headquarters.

_Please don't let the CEO pick up._

The rings gave way to heavy breathing and to a small metallic voice saying, "Hello, Bossbot Headquarters, Flunky 17-91 speaking. How may I help you?"

"Hello, 17-91," the VP replied. "This is the VP."

"Mr. VP!" the Flunky cried. "Guess what? I got promoted to a Level Two today! Now I can do up to four points of damage!"

The VP couldn't help but chuckle. "That's great!"

"Did you want to talk to the CEO?" the Flunky asked.

The VP started to shake his head, but caught himself just in time. "No. I wanted to ask if you and your fellow Bossbots could come over to my place for a Christmas party."

"Yes!" the Flunky replied. "What's Christmas?"

"I'll tell you at the party," the VP answered.

"Okay."

********  
"So I said, 'What a lovely vest you're wearing, CEO. Is it new?'" a Mingler jabbered, sipping her oil.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh," replied a Short Change, eyelids drooping.

"Fore!" screamed a Big Cheese, smacking a golf ball into the air.

"So, what do you think of the Sellbots?" a Name Dropper asked, pouring a cup of oil for a Corporate Raider.

The Corporate Raider tugged at his bandana. "Aye, m'lady, they seem most hospitable. It's a shame the capt'in won't give 'em a chance."

The party had been going on for several hours, and the warmth in the VP's chest was starting to spread to his whole body. This was definitely what he'd needed.

The phone rang then. The VP snatched it up. "Hello, Sellbot Headquarters, Senior Vice President speaking."

"This is the CFO -"

"-And the Chief Justice -"

"-And the CEO."

The VP blinked. Wow. A four-way phone call.

"Hi, guys," he replied. "What's up?"

"Are our Cogs at your Headquarters?" the CFO asked. "Because they're not anywhere else."

"Oh, yes," the VP answered. "We're having a Christmas party."

There was a very long silence.

"What kind of pathetic Cog throws _a Christmas party_?" the CEO growled. "That's just stupid! Of course, you _are _stupid."

The VP felt as if he were shrinking. "I - I -"

"Just a reminder, tomorrow is a federal holiday," the Chief Justice cut in. "We can't work on Christmas. It's the law."

"Can we have our Cogs back, please?" the CFO asked. He actually sounded kind of amused with the whole thing.

"Sure," the VP mumbled. He hung up the phone to the tune of the CEO asking, "Can we play golf on Christmas?"

Strangely, he still felt warm all over. Matter of fact, he felt downright hot. And it didn't feel good.

"Um, sir," a Big Wig said. "That fire you built in your undercarriage is getting awfully big. You think maybe we should put it out?"

The VP felt a million eyes looking at him. His face burned even hotter. "Yes. And then your bosses want you to go back to your Headquarters."

A series of disappointed moans rose from the Lawbots, the Cashbots, and especially the Bossbots.

And a Mr. Hollywood scurried off to get a bucket of water.

*****  
It was suddenly lonely again in Sellbot Headquarters. All the other types of Cogs had gone back to their own Headquarters, and the Sellbots had drifted off to bed. The VP was tired enough to join them, but he still had paperwork to sign before tomorrow.

He had taken off the Santa hat and beard, but he kept the big purple stocking hanging on his undercarriage - which was still sore from being scorched. He made a mental note to never build a fire in there again.

The VP glanced down at the stocking. Maybe, just maybe, Santa would put something in there tonight while he was asleep.

He shook his head and was about to return to his paperwork when he heard the ding of an elevator. The VP craned his neck to see. Sure enough, the doors to the elevator leading to the promotion room were opening.

Inside the elevator was a single, solitary Telemarketer….

*******

Note: The first Flunky the VP talked to (in the courtyard of Bossbot HQ) was ACE in his "former life" as a normal Cog.


	12. Chapter 11 Battle Lines

Chapter Eleven

"What are you doing?"  
"Waiting."  
"For what?"  
"For...family."  
"Ha! You don't have one. _I_ created you."  
"Maybe...I...could..."  
"You were built to destroy. You can _never _belong."

-A conversation between Stitch and Jumba Jookiba, his creator; _Lilo and Stitch_

The VP leaned over and placed his new nameplate on his desk - quietly, as if any noise would break the peaceful mood that had settled over him. He hadn't felt peaceful for a long, long time, and he didn't want it to go away.

He also felt confused. The little purple dog who had just left, the one who had come in disguised as a Telemarketer, the one who had saved the CFO, had been talking about declaring a truce between Cogs and Toons.

A truce - no one winning, no one losing. And no one getting hurt anymore. That sounded pretty good to the VP. But he knew none of his colleagues would agree.

He could hear the Toon's words in his mind again. "If you stop trying to take over our town and kidnap our citizens, we'll leave you alone. I promise I will never blow up another Sellbot if you do that."

What if that was the only way to make sure his Sellbots weren't hurt anymore? They were - what had the Toon called them? His friends.

_Friends_. The VP rolled the unfamiliar word around in his head, trying to make sense of it. "Someone you hang out with because you _want _to," the Toon had said. If his Sellbots weren't his workers, would he still "hang out" with them?

Definitely, he decided. They had proven themselves to be loyal - and that, he suddenly realized, was even more important to him than how hardworking they were.

"The Chairman and I - our ideas about what's important are completely different now," the VP said right out loud. "And I don't know what to do about it."

He took one last glance at the shiny new nameplate on his desk. And then he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, as soon as the VP's eyes had blinked open, he peered into his stocking. Tucked inside was a can of motor oil - and not the thin, watery kind that he and the Sellbots had to drink now. No, this was the rich stuff the CEO served to his guests.

The VP fumbled around in the folds of the stocking and pulled out the can. Taped to the side of it was a scrap of paper, folded sloppily in half.

Curiosity rising, the VP grabbed the paper and unfolded it awkwardly with his big, clumsy hands. The handwriting inside was far too bouncy-looking to belong to any Cog.

_Dear VP_, the note said.

_I was planning to give all of the Cogs nothing but coal in their stockings this year - if they had even hung stockings, which I doubted. However, a little Toon friend of yours came to me on your behalf and convinced me that you deserved a present. Hope you enjoy it, as I don't know much about what to get Cogs._

_Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas!_

_Love,  
Santa_

A little Toon friend of his - that could only mean the purple dog. The VP felt his eyes bulge. She knew Santa?

He turned the can over several times in his hands. It was big enough for him to have at his next meal.

But the VP shook his head. It was also big enough that he could mix a little bit in with each Sellbot's watery oil at their next meal.

And, he decided, they deserved it a lot more than he did.

*******  
The day after Christmas, things fell back into their pattern. The Sellbots were selling. The CFO was asking the Chairman if Version 2.0 Cogs could be constructed for Cashbots, too. (The Chairman said it would depend on how well they performed for the next several months.) The Chief Justice was passing new laws for the Toons to obey, and the CEO was whining about how having to fight Toons was hurting his golf game.

And the VP was confused - more so than usual. A Toon had been nice to him, and not just phony-polite the way the Chief Justice was. The way she'd saved the CFO proved that.

_I always thought Toons were evil,_ he thought as he was pouring over his paperwork. _But she seems to - care about us - more than the Chairman does!_

A knock on the door interrupted the VP's thoughts. A Mover & Shaker poked his head in.

The VP smiled. "Yes, 555-78?"

The Mover & Shaker straightened his shoulders. "Sir, which Toon would you like us to kidnap today?"

The VP froze to the spot. Nothing on his body would move, but his mind was going out of control. _I can't - I can't do that!_

_You've been doing it for five years, idiot. What's so different now?_ That was what the Chairman would say if he were here, the VP knew.

_What the Toon said - she said if I don't kidnap Toons, there's no reason for the Toons to hurt my Sellbots,_ the VP answered him.

_Are you really so weak that a few words from a Toon would change your mind?_ the Chairman-voice snarled.

_It's not just her. The way things are right now - the way you make them - it's not right. I've thought that for a long time now._

"Sir?"

The VP brought his head up with a start and stared at the bewildered-looking Mover & Shaker that he had forgotten was there. He took a deep breath and let out it slowly, as if he were trying to blow all the Chairman's ugliness away.

"None," he said firmly. "Don't kidnap any."

The Mover & Shaker's eyes popped. "Sir?"

"It's a new plan," the VP added. "And I think it might work a lot better than the old one."

******

_"How could you, VP?" the Chairman barked. His red eyes were glowing like fire. "How could you betray your colleagues, your boss - your own creator!"_

_The CEO's golf clubs were poised to strike. "You rusty pile of bolts! You'll pay for this!"_

_The Chief Justice's blindfold seemed to be changing color. "Lock him up, and throw away the key. High treason - associating with Toons!"_

_The CFO's cash-register head floated several inches above his shoulders. "You're as worthless as they all said you were."_

_The VP's mouth wouldn't move. Neither would his treads. He was stuck there, staring at them, unable to defend himself or run away as they got closer - and closer - and closer -_

The VP's eyes flew open, and he stared into the dark of Sellbot Headquarters. The other bosses had disappeared and so had the Chairman. But how? They had been advancing on him, ready to hurt him.

Heart thudding against his chest, the VP took a slow, cautious look around. There were no other Cogs in sight. He twisted his head around and peered out his office window. A few silver stars winked down at him from a pure-black sky.

The VP let out a long sigh of relief. It was night - which meant he had been asleep - which meant it had all been a dream.

All except for the strange tightness in his chest. It wasn't the pinch of pain. It was something entirely new and different that squeezed his chest until he doubled over and coughed - and coughed - and coughed.

Even to himself, each cough sounded like a boulder hitting the ground. Within thirty seconds, half the population of Sellbot Headquarters was in the room, clustered around him in a worried bunch.

"Sir? Are you okay?" a Telemarketer asked.

The VP gave one last hack and nodded. "I - I'm fine." He wasn't so sure he was - even his voice was shivering - but he wasn't going to give his Sellbots something else to worry about.

Before anyone else could react, a Mingler sprouted her propeller, flew up, and placed a hand on his forehead. It felt smooth and cool, and the VP let out a shuddery breath.

"You feel awfully warm, honey - um, sir," she said, heavily shadowed eyes drooping with concern. "Lay down."

The VP didn't argue. Slowly, he bent over backwards - and his treads shot out from under him and landed him flat on his back.

Oh, well. That was one way to get down.

Several Mr. Hollywoods appeared then, dragging a huge tarp that the VP vaguely recognized. It had covered some of the machines in the factory back when Sellbot Headquarters had just been built, and the factory wasn't yet tested.

But, to his surprise, the Mr. Hollywoods draped the tarp over _him_ and pulled it up to his chin. It was so comforting, the VP had the sudden urge to cry.

"Now, you just sleep as late as you want, sir," the Mingler whispered to him.

"But - today is promotion day," the VP mumbled drowsily. He stopped and broke into another coughing fit.

The Mingler rubbed his back until it subsided. When it did, the VP managed to rasp out, "Those new Cogs love getting promoted. They'll be devastated."

"Of course they will, sir," the Mingler replied, tucking the tarp tighter around his chin. "They'll be devastated that their boss is sick. Trust me, they can handle waiting a little while for promotions while you get better. You mean a lot more than any of us than some silly change in rank."

The VP's chest loosened a little. "You mean that?"

The Mingler nodded.

"Well, thank you." The VP ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed. "But I - I'm not sick. I'm just - getting old."

"No, sir," the Mingler said gently. "With all due respect, you are _not_ old, and you _are _sick. You've always taken such good care of us. Now let us take care of you."

The VP swallowed hard against a suddenly-lumpy throat. "You don't mind?"

"Mind?" The Mingler's eyes shone at him. "It would be our honor."

Suddenly, it didn't matter that the floor was hard and that the tarp was dusty and smelled of oil. The VP felt his stiff spine relax, and his eyes drooped lower and lower -

"Sweet dreams, Boss!" he heard a Cold Caller chirp.

And then he was out.

*********  
Several days later, it was time for another meeting at Bossbot Headquarters. When the VP arrived, some poor little Flunky was setting cans of oil at each place on a table.

"Don't spill on the new tablecloth, 321-205!" the CEO shrieked as the Flunky set the oil cup at the VP's place with a wobbly little hand. As far the VP could tell, the CEO was the one making his hands shake like that in the first place.

Once all four cans of oil were set out, the Flunky turned an expectant face on the CEO, like the Toons' pets when they wanted a treat. "Did I do good, Boss?"

The CEO pointed toward the door in response. The Flunky slunk off, head down like a scolded Toon-pet.

_You don't have to be so rough with them,_ the VP wanted to say. But he didn't dare. He felt bad enough without getting whacked on the head with a golf club.

"Well, gentlemen, shall we discuss business?" the Chief Justice began, taking a sip of his oil.

The CFO grunted. "Why else would be here?"

"To golf?" the CEO suggested.

The Flunky poked his head back into the room. "Can I golf with you, Boss? The big Cogs never let me golf with them - "

"Get out of here!" the CEO shouted.

The Flunky's head disappeared.

The VP gave his oil a sniff. It smelled thick and rich, like the kind he'd gotten for Christmas. His middle gave a _don't-you-dare-put-anything-in-me_ gurgle, and he put his head down on the table. His eyelids were so heavy - and his forehead was so hot -

He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard the CFO ask, "Why aren't you drinking your oil?"

"I don't feel well," the VP mumbled into the tablecloth.

"Speaking of the Vice President, perhaps we shall begin with his performance as of the last few days." He could practically _hear_ the Chief Justice's lip curling.

"Or lack of it," the CEO added. "Your performance has plummeted below your usual rock-bottom standards, VP. You're getting pretty lazy."

"He's been sick, okay?" the CFO shot back.

The CEO gave a snort. "A _real_ man works through his pain. Obviously, he's not a real man - or anything worthwhile."

That burned in the VP's chest, right next to whatever was making him sick. For a brief, crazy instant, he thought it was himself who shrieked, "Shut up!"

But the voice was high-pitched and Toony - and it came from the small purple dog in the tie-dye clothes who leapt down from the rafters and landed smack in the middle of the table.

It was _her_.

The Chief Justice, as usual, was the first to process what had just happened. "How dare you speak to the CEO that way?"

"You shut up, too!" the dog snapped. She swept her blazing golden-brown eyes across all three of the VP's colleagues. "You guys need to _stop_ picking on the VP _now_! He's a better man than any of you - or all three of you combined!"

She let that hang in the air for a minute, her little chest heaving in and out, her eyes fiery. Only the CFO looked the least bit ashamed. The VP felt something shift inside him. Now she was _defending_ him?

He felt torn. Half of him was grateful to her, but the other half wondered - what kind of pathetic Cog needed a _Toon_ to stand up for him?

The other bosses continued to stare for a few more long moments, mouths gaping. When the CEO finally spoke, his voice was low and deadly. "Get her."

For the first time, the Toon's eyes flashed fear. She jumped off the table and scrambled away as fast as her legs would carry her. The bosses took off after her - and while only the CEO was very fast, they were on her almost before the VP could blink. Surrounding her, eyes gleaming.

_What are you going to do to her?_ wobbled on the VP's tongue. But he was too frozen to even say it.

The CEO raised his golf club in the air, seemingly in slow motion. "Fore!" he hollered.

And then, in a flash, the VP came unfrozen. He whipped his head toward the window and gave what he hoped was a convincing gasp. "Hey, guys!" he burst out. "Is that the Chairman?"

Three heads jerked toward the window. In that instant, the Toon reached into her pocket, pulled out her black hole, and disappeared.

The VP tried not to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Where's the Chairman?" the CEO demanded.

The VP peered out the window again. "Oops, false alarm," he said. "It was a bush."

The CEO gave a loud groan.

"At least she is gone now," the Chief Justice said, rubbing his temples. "That's all that really matters."

The VP spent the rest of the meeting in a feverish daze. But when it was over and the other bosses were leaving, he felt a hand wrap around his arm quite clearly.

The CFO dragged him into another room and shut the door behind him. He aimed his dark eyes down at the VP. "You let her go on purpose, didn't you?"

The VP felt his jaw drop. "How did you know - I mean, what makes you say that?"

The CFO gave a wry smile. "Because - really - mistaking a bush for the Chairman? You're not _that_ stupid."

The VP brightened. "Gee, thanks."

The CFO sighed. "You're welcome. But _why_ did you do it?"

"She was nice to me," the VP fumbled out. "She gave me a new nameplate."

The CFO's eyes looked confused. "Okay, then. So that was your way of repaying her?"

The VP shrugged. "I guess. She was talking about a - a truce. Between Cogs and Toons."

The CFO's eyes grew bigger than the VP had ever seen them. "And you _listened_ to her?"

The VP nodded. "Because she said if I don't kidnap Toons anymore, she won't hurt me or my Sellbots anymore."

The CFO shook his head sadly. "You really think any of the Toons are going to agree to a truce with you after all you've done? You've sent your Cogs out to sadden them, take over their buildings, kidnap their shopkeepers. _You've_ saddened them many, many times." He leaned in toward the VP, wisdom in his eyes. "That's not the kind of thing that can easily be forgiven."

The VP felt himself sag. "Oh."

The CFO shrugged. "I understand you wanting to repay the Toon that was nice to you, but you don't belong with the Toons. You belong with us. Besides, all that talk about a truce is just that - talk."

"It's not just talk," the VP heard himself say. "That Toon was the same one who - who saved _you_."

The CFO blinked for a moment, then dismissed that with a wave of his hand. "Even if they had a point, you're supposed to sadden Toons and take over their buildings. You're a Cog. It's your duty. It's your _destiny_."

"What if I don't _want_ it to be my destiny?" the VP burst out. And then he bent himself in half and coughed and wheezed and hacked.

When he finally looked back up, the CFO's eyes were concerned. "You really are sick, aren't you?"

The VP felt his face crumple. "I want to go _home_!"

The CFO sighed. "Go home, then."

The VP tried to move forward, but his treads didn't even turn once. He was just too weak. "I can't."

He heard a long sigh and felt a heavy arm around his shoulder. And then he was moving forward - with someone else's help.

They got all the way back to Sellbot Headquarters that way.

At the door to the VP's office, the CFO pulled his arm back, held up a hand, and said, "I have two things to say to you."

The VP nodded.

"First of all, that never happened. The guys won't hear about it - understand?"

The VP nodded again.

"Second of all, that stuff I told you about Toons was for your own good."

This time, the VP didn't nod. Because even as the CFO left, he felt a tiny spark of hope in his chest.

He wasn't sure why it was still there. But he was glad it was.

****

Note: "Santa" was actually Flippy.


	13. Chapter 12 The Choice

And here's. . . THE END! (*dramatic music*)

**************

Chapter Twelve

"

The hero isn't the strongest or the smartest or the best-looking. The hero is the one who, no matter how hard, does the right thing."  
-_The Pirates who Don't Do Anything_

A few days later, while the VP was signing papers, a Telemarketer poked his head in the door. "Sir," he said breathlessly, "there are Toons in the courtyard. All over the courtyard!"

Panic clutched at the VP. This was it. The Toons had finally launched a full-scale invasion. So much for a truce.

He straightened his shoulders and nodded at the Telemarketer. "Thank you," the VP said. He took a deep breath and rolled out into the courtyard, not knowing what he'd find.

What he saw shocked him.

Toons were clustered around in several groups in the courtyard - with mops and buckets and rags. Some were scrubbing at the oil puddles on the ground. Some were picking up spare crowbars and beams and gathering them into a pile. And one group was down on their hands and knees, scrubbing frantically at the rusty walkway that led to the factory, gathered around a dog whose floppy ears covered her face.

It was that group that the VP rolled up to. "What is going _on _here?" he asked. His brain was in its biggest tangle yet.

"Hiya, sir!" came an almost-familiar voice from under the ears. "We're just fixing the place up - you don't mind, do ya?"

The VP could only stare as his mind whirled. This was the strangest Toon attack yet. So strange, as a matter of fact, that he didn't see how it would hurt the Cogs.

But an awful thought popped into his mind and straight out of his mouth. "And I suppose after that, you'll hang up pink curtains, too?"

The dog shook her head. "Oh, no, sir," she chirped. "This is _your _territory, and if you want it dark and dreary, then dark and dreary it is. However -" she rubbed the sponge even harder against the walkway - "dark and dreary is one thing, dirty and falling-apart is quite another." With that, she tossed the ears out of her face.

The VP's jaw dropped. "It's you!"

The dog smiled. "I have a _name_, you know. I'm Weird Curly Megaquack."

"Oh." Something inside the VP shifted. He'd never known a Toon by name before. But then again, this was no ordinary Toon. And in that case, he had to be polite.

He stuck out his hand. "I'm the VP."

Miss Megaquack's smile grew, crinkling her eyes nearly shut. "I knew that already." But she took one of the VP's fingers in the hand and shook it firmly.

The whole world seemed to stand still as Toon and Cog connected.

_I just touched a Toon - without trying to hurt her,_ the VP realized. _And she wasn't trying to hurt me. _

He gulped. _I guess there's no turning back now._

Miss Megaquack pulled her hand back and stared at it. "That's weird," she said - quietly, as if she were talking to herself. "I didn't lose any Laff points."

A couple of the other Toons exchanged astonished looks. The VP was pretty astonished himself. Whenever a Toon had so much as bumped into his treads during a battle, they lost Laff. He didn't even have to try to hurt them - it just happened.

_During a battle. _Maybe - maybe if they weren't fighting - if they didn't _want _to fight -

A yip broke into the VP's thoughts. He jerked his head around and saw a small lavender creature shaped like a jellybean bounding toward Miss Megaquack. He recognized it as a Toon-pet. "Doodles," he was fairly sure they were called.

Miss Megaquack laughed - maybe the first time ever that a Toon laughing didn't make the VP want to crush them under his treads. She bent down and scratched her pet's head. "Wagtail, sweetheart," she murmured. "Did you follow me here?"

Wagtail gave a joyful bark and waddled off toward a small Goon. The Goon spun around, catching her directly in its light.

Miss Megaquack gasped. The VP blinked in confusion.

But Wagtail seemed none the worse for wear. As a matter of fact, she squatted down on her paws, stuck her rump in the air, and wagged her tail. The Goon copied her as best as he could.

Wagtail leaped back up and gave a Goon a friendly lick, then took off across the courtyard. The Goon followed her.

The VP felt himself soften. It didn't look so hard for _them _to come to a truce. But then again, _they _probably had no idea that they were supposed to be fighting.

Miss Megaquack snapped her head back toward him. "Anyway," she said, "this place needs to be majorly cleaned up. Gyro's bringing his air-cleaner -"

The VP felt his heart slam to a halt. "Gyro? Gyro Gearloose?"

Her lips twitched. "How many other Gyros do you know?"

The VP thought hard for a minute. "None," he finally said.

Miss Megaquack smiled again. "Yeah, it's him. You know - the guy that made your boss? Well -" she stopped and tilted her head to one side - "Scrooge McDuck brought him to life." She shook her head. "It was pretty stupid of him - but he didn't deserve whatever happened to him." She gave an enormous sigh. "I wonder where the poor guy is now."

Something heavy settled into the VP's chest, and he realized what it was. It was responsibility. Because at that moment, he had the clearest thought he'd ever had:

_I need to tell the Toons that the Chairman has Scrooge._

But his tongue wouldn't work; his mouth wouldn't form those words. Maybe it was because he couldn't betray his boss, maybe it was sheer nervousness or his usual awkwardness. Whatever the reason, he just stood there, feeling like - like a senseless, stupid piece of garbage.

"Oh, you are not!"

The VP glanced down at Miss Megaquack. Only when he saw that she had her hands parked on her hips did he realize he'd said that out loud.

"Who told you that you were?" she continued.

The VP sighed. "The CEO. One day."

"Well, he was wrong! Because you know what's _really _senseless and stupid?"

The VP shook his head, strangely fascinated. He'd never met anyone who could talk as much as this Toon did.

Miss Megaquack pierced him with her eyes. "Senseless and stupid is thinking the entire world revolves around you, and treating your workers like dirt. It's stupid because then they don't _want _to work for you. The second anything better comes up, they'll drop you -" She gave her fingers a quick little snap. "- just like that."

Her eyes softened at the corners in a way that looked familiar. "Not your Cogs, though. They love you, because you love them. You take care of them. You tell them they're wonderful. Even if something 'better' came along, they'd stay with you - because they're loyal, not because they're scared."

She gave her head another tilt. "Why did he call you that, anyway?"

The VP shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. He'd forgotten why by this point. "Because - because I'm not the CEO."

"Of course not!" Miss Megaquack's hands went back to her hips. "You're the VP! You're not supposed to be the CEO! Why would you even want to be?" She leaned in, eyes blazing. "The CEO gives his baby Cogs nightmares. The VP _comforts _his baby Cogs' nightmares."

The VP felt heat rising to his face. "How did you know about that?"

"I talk to the little Cogs," Miss Megaquack replied. "They're very trusting - and quite eye-opening." She raised her eyebrows. "You want some advice?"

The VP felt as if he were staring at a closed door, reaching for the knob. He drew back._ Toons are evil!_ the Chairman's voice boomed in his head.

_You can't trust them!_ the CFO echoed him.

The VP shook them off, and then grabbed for the knob - and turned it. "Yes," he whispered.

Miss Megaquack leaned in. "You let the CEO worry about being the CEO," she whispered. "And you just keep on being the VP."

The VP nodded. He didn't exactly understand that, but somewhere in the back of his eternally-confused brain - it made sense.

"But, like I said, Gyro's coming with some kind of machine to clean the air in here," Miss Megaquack continued. "It really needs it."

The VP tilted his own head. "Why?" he asked. And then he felt that awful pressing in his chest. He bent over and started coughing into the palm of his hand. Each cough stung his head.

After the coughing had finally stopped, he heard Miss Megaquack say, "That's why. Dude, you sound like you have pneumonia or something." She gave her hand a couple of waves. "It's all that exhaust the factory's been churning out. Without anywhere to really go, it just hangs around here and makes people sick." Her eyes gave that familiar droop. "Like you."

With new eyes, the VP examined the thick gray smoke being pumped out of the factory. _That _was what was making him sick? But the factory was the backbone of their business!

"You don't need to clean it up for my sake," he managed to get out. "I'm just old, that's all."

"Oh, yeah, five years old." Miss Megaquack tossed her ears back over her shoulder. "Practically ancient."

The VP felt himself sag. Even she agreed. "See?"

"I was kidding! Back where I come from, five years old is practically a baby. You don't even have to go to school yet!" She shook her head. "Even if you don't want it cleaned up for your sake, think about your Sellbots. Do you want them getting sick, too?"

A Cold Caller toddled by just then, and the VP stared at him, picturing him gray-faced and coughing. The image nearly made him cry. "Okay," he whimpered.

"I thought you'd see it that way," Miss Megaquack said. "We're just trying to take care of you, is all."

It was then that the VP recognized the softness in her eyes. "You remind me of the Minglers. They always want to take care of me, too."

Miss Megaquack threw back her head and laughed. "Female instinct, sir," she answered. "We feel the need to mother everything." She gave one of his treads a pat. "Even a big tough guy like you."

The VP felt himself beam.

"Listen, though," she continued. "If we're going to call a truce, now is the time. Something big is about to go down between your boss and the Toons, and I don't want any of you guys getting hurt in the process." She sighed again. "I don't want _any _of the Cogs getting hurt, actually - but I've gotta defend my friends and my town."

Something from five years ago pinged in the VP's brain. _"Purely in self defense, of course,"_ the Chairman had purred.

"That's - that's what I've been told that the Cogs were doing. All my life," the VP sputtered.

Miss Megaquack nodded. "And some of them _are _- like you. But some, like the CEO, are willing to hurt their own kind to get to the top."

The VP could practically feel the lightbulbs of his head lighting up. "You figured out the pink slips, huh?"

Another nod. "About the saddest thing I ever heard."

The VP nodded, too. _Wow,_ he thought. _Who would have ever thought I'd be agreeing with a Toon?_

And then another thought struck him - hard. "How - how do you know that something big is about to happen?" Cold fingers of fear were creeping up his backbone.

Miss Megaquack grunted. "Toon instincts. Or, as we like to call it, in-Toon-inion."

The VP gave a groan. He still wasn't too crazy about these Toons' puns.

"Oh, sorry," Miss Megaquack said. "I keep forgetting that you're a Cog."

The VP wasn't sure whether that was an insult or a compliment. Probably a compliment, he decided.

"Well, I gotta get back to my work," Miss Megaquack continued. With that, she plunged her sponge back into the bucket of something marked "Rust-Away."

"Wait!" the VP blurted out. A question had been nagging at the back of his mind since they had first started talking, and now he finally had the words for it. "You - you told the other bosses that I was a better man than all of them combined."

"Yeah…" Miss Megaquack said slowly.

"But - why? The CFO is the strong one, and the Chief Justice is the smart one, and the CEO is the tough one - what am I?" There. The question he'd been asking _himself _for five years was finally out there in the air.

And she answered it with a casual shrug. "That's easy. You're the sweet one."

The VP felt his face go scarlet.

"No, I mean it," Miss Megaquack pushed on. "You're the one who's excited about promoting his Cogs and always talking nice to them and - and insisting on doing the right thing. Even if it keeps you from being very high-ranking, even though it must be really hard to know what the right thing even _is _in this situation, when you find it, you do it."

She threw out her arms as if she were finishing a dance. "That's a lot more important than being strong or tough or even smart."

The VP could only stare at her for a long minute. No one had ever said such nice things about him. He wondered if they were true.

"And you know what else my instincts tell me?" Miss Megaquack asked.

The VP shrugged.

"You're going to be okay." She reached into her gag bag and pulled out a feather, which she placed in the palm of his hand. "This is a Toon-Up gag. It lets us heal each other in battle."

_So_ that's _how that works._

"It's a symbol of hope." Miss Megaquack slung her bag back over her shoulder. "You hang onto it."

The VP met her eyes. "I will," he croaked out.

And in that instant, he knew Toontown would never be the same again.

******  
"You're going to do _what_?" the CFO cried through the phone.

The VP pulled it away from his ear. "I'm going to tell the Toons that the Chairman has Scrooge."

"You are crazy," the CFO said. "Absolutely crazy. Do have any idea what the Chairman will do when he finds out you tipped them off?"

The VP swallowed hard. Actually, he hadn't thought of that. "He doesn't have to know it was me."

He could almost _hear _the CFO shrugging. "But he'll probably find out. And when if he does -"

"If he does, the Toons won't let him hurt me," the VP butted in. He wasn't sure where _that _came from, but he went with it. "And neither will the Sellbots."

"And neither will the Cashbots," the CFO added. "You may be crazy, but I'm not going to let you get hurt."

Warmth seeped into the VP's tight chest. "You mean it?"

"Sure, I mean it." The CFO sighed. "I just don't see why you have to go and shake things up."

For an instant, the VP wondered, too. But the answer came out of his mouth - the answer to every question he'd been having lately. "Because the way things are now isn't right. And it needs to be changed."

There was a long silence.

"I guess you're right," the CFO finally said.

There was knock on the VP's door just then. A Mr. Hollywood stuck his head in. "Sir," he said softly, "Gyro Gearloose is here."

The VP dropped the phone.

"Hello?" came the CFO's voice.

The Mr. Hollywood picked the phone back up and handed it to the VP. _Thank you_, he mouthed. "I need to go now," he added to the CFO. "But I need to tell you something first."

"What is it?"

The VP took a deep breath. "You're my best friend."

"I'm your what?"

"I'll call you later and explain. But, don't worry," the VP added, triumphant at being able to explain something to somebody _else _for once. "It's a good thing."

*****  
Gyro Gearloose was a skinny rooster. He had red hair and he wore a big floppy hat.

But it was his eyes that the VP noticed. The soft, compassionate look in them made him relax immediately. He hadn't known what to expect from the Toon who had built his boss, but Gyro was looking at him as if he was a long-lost friend.

"Hello, there," Gyro said, extending his hand. "I'm Gyro Gearloose."

The VP shook his hand with one finger, vaguely aware that this was the second time in one day he had touched a Toon. That immediately made him start babbling, the way he sometimes did when he was a nervous wreck. "And I'm the Senior Vice President of Sales, but my friends call me the VP. Actually, everyone calls me the VP - and I don't have that many friends. Just the CFO - and my Cogs."

He wondered if Miss Megaquack could be considered a friend. He would have to ask her about that the next time he saw her.

Gyro's face broke into a gentle smile. "Yes, I've heard about you, VP. You're the one the Chairman got right."

The VP stared as his thoughts started racing. _The one the Chairman got _right_? Everyone always says I'm the one the Chairman got_ wrong_!_

"But - don't you like your robots to be smart?" he blurted out.

Gyro's soft face grew serious. "Of course I do. But it's the quality of the heart, more than the quality of the brain, that I'm really concerned about." He gave a crackly chuckle. "After all, you may have heard that I have trouble with my robots turning evil."

The VP nodded. "The Chairman told me about Armstrong."

Gyro leaned in. "And you, my boy, have the kind of heart I've been trying to give my robots all along."

For a minute, the VP couldn't breathe. The one who had built the Chairman, the one who was ultimately the one all the Cogs had basically descended from, was proud of _him_. It made his hands start to shake.

"But - but don't you hate now because we rebelled?" the VP dared to ask.

"Oh, no." Gyro shook his head. "I hate that you rebelled, but I love every robot I have ever invented."

That hit the VP square in the chest. "You love _me_?"

"I love _you_."

The VP would later look back on that sentence as three little words that changed his life forever. Because they gave him such a wonderful feeling that he asked, "Mr. Gearloose?"

"Call me Gyro."

"Okay - Gyro - can I talk to you about something?"

Gyro was smiling his wonderful smile again. "Anytime, VP. What about?"

The VP took a deep breath, his heart trying to throb its way out of his chest. He reached into his pocket and felt the feather, soft and warm against his clammy palm. "I know where your friend Scrooge is."

Gyro's eyes grew wide, and he leaned in. "Then, tell me."

And as the VP told him everything - absolutely everything - he realized that Miss Megaquack had been right. He was still clumsy and kind of simple-minded. He would probably never be as smart as the Chief Justice or as strong as the CFO or as quick and tough as the CEO.

But he wasn't them. He was the VP. And he had friends. He was even loved. And he was doing the right thing. That, he suddenly realized, was enough.

That was more than enough.

THE END


End file.
